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THE SECOND VIOLIN 



r 


t 




I 
























BY THE SAME AUTHOR 

“ The Indifference of Juliet ” 

Also many short stories for 
children 





































































♦ 














Courtesy of “ The Youth’s Companion." 

“ Celia . . . worked away until Doctor Churchill gently took 

her violin from her.” 



The Second Violin 


BY 

GRACE S. RICHMOND 

'\ 

Illustrated by 

B. J. ROSENMYER 




\ 



New York 

Doubleday, Page & Company 
1906 


LiCHARY of CONGRESS 
Two gooicb Received 

SEP 11 1903 

Cooyriffhj Entry 

GLASJy Cl AAc, Na, 
COPY A. 



Copyright, 1905, 1906, by 
Perry Mason Company. 


Copyright, 1906, by 
Doubleday, Page & Company. 

Published, September, 1906. 

All rights reserved , 

including that of translation into foreign languages , 
including the Scandinavian. 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

Book I 

The Second Violin 3 

Book II 

The Churchill Latch-string . . . 153 






LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


“ Celia . . . worked away until Doctor 

Churchill gently took her violin from 
her.” Frontispiece / 

FACING PAGE 

“ Mrs. Birch . . . was saying to him 

things he never forgot.” 24 

“ Charlotte knelt before the child and held 

out her arms ” 82 

“ He was leaning heavily on his sister’s 

strong young shoulder ” 122 

“ 4 Here’s to the Second Violin!’ ” .... 148 

“‘Come on, here’s just the spot’” . . . 220 , 

“Jeff mounted a prostrate log and gave vent 

to a vigorous and sincere discourse” . 256 

> 

“ ‘ After all, Andy ... I wouldn’t have 

had it different.’ ” 308 



BOOK I 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 






















CHAPTER I 


C RASH! Bang! Bang! “The March of the 
Pilgrims ” came to an abrupt end. John 
Lansing Birch laid down his viola and 
bow, whirled about, and flung out his arms 
in despair. “Oh, this crowd is hopeless !” he 
groaned. “Never mind any other instrument, 
providing yours is heard. This march is sup- 
posed to die away in the distance! You murder 

it in front of the house. That second violin ” 

Here his wrath centred upon the red-cheeked, 
black-eyed young player. 

The second violin returned his gaze with re- 
sentment. “What’s the use of my playing like 
a midsummer zephyr when Just’s sawing away 
like mad on the bass ?” she retorted. 

The first violin smiled pleasantly on the little 
group. “Let’s try it again,” she suggested, “and 
see if we can please John Lansing better.” 

“You’re all right,” said Lansing, with a wave 
of his hand at Celia, “if the rest of the strings 
wouldn’t fight to drown you out. Charlotte plays 
as if second violin were a solo part, with the rest 
as accompaniment.” 


3 


4 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


Charlotte tucked her instrument under a sulky, 
round chin, raised her bow and waited, her eyes 
on the floor. Celia, smiling, softly tried her 
strings. 

“That’s it, precisely,” began the leader, still 
with irritation. “Celia tunes between practice; 
Charlotte takes it for granted she’s all right and 
fires ahead. Your E string is off!” 

The second violin grudgingly tightened the E 
string; then all her strings in turn, lengthening the 
process as much as possible. The ’cello did the 
same — the ’cello always stood by the second violin. 
Jeff gave Charlotte a glance of loyalty. His G 
string had been flatter than her E. 

Lansing wheeled about and picked up his in- 
strument, carefully trying its pitch. He gave the 
signal, and the “ March of the Pilgrims ” began — 
in the remote distance. The double-bass viol 
gripped his bow with his stubby twelve-year-old 
fingers, and hardly breathed as he strove to keep 
his notes subdued. The ’cello murmured a gentle 
undertone; the first violin sang as sweetly and 
delicately as a bird, her legato perfect. The 
second violin fingered her notes through, but the 
voice of her instrument was not heard at all. 

The leader glanced at her once, with a 
frown between his fine eyebrows, but Charlotte 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


5 


played dumbly on. The Pilgrims approached — 
crescendo; drew near — forte; passed — fortissimo; 
marched away — diminuendo; were almost lost 
in the distance — piano — piannissimo. Uplifted 
bows — and silence. 

“Good!” said a hearty voice behind them. 
Everybody looked up, smiling — even the second 
violin. His children always smiled when Mr. 
Roderick Birch came in. It would have been a 
sour temper which could have resisted his genial 
greeting. 

“Mother would like the ‘ Lullaby 9 next,” he 
said. “She's rather tired to-night. And after 
the ‘ Lullaby 9 1 want a little talk with you all.” 

Something in his voice or his eyes made his elder 
daughter take notice of him, as he dropped into 
a chair by the fire. “ Play your best,” she warned 
the others, in a whisper. But they needed no 
warning. Everybody always played his best for 
father. And if mother was tired — 

The notes of the second violin fell daintily, 
caressing those which wrought out the melody 
enveloping but never overwhelming them. As 
the music ceased, the leader, turning to the second 
violin, met her reluctant eyes with a softening in 
his own keen ones. The hint of a laugh curved 
the corners of her lips as his smiled broadly. It 


6 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


was all the truce necessary. Charlotte’s sulks 
never lasted longer than Lanse’s impatience. 

They laid aside their instruments and gathered 
round their father. Graceful, brown-eyed Celia 
sat down beside him; Charlotte’s curly black hair 
mingled with his heavy iron-gray locks as she 
perched upon the arm of his chair, her scarlet 
flannel arm under his head. The youngest boy, 
Justin, threw himself flat on the hearth-rug, chin 
propped on elbow, watching the fire; sixteen- 
year-old Jeff helped himself to a low stool, clasping 
long arms about long legs as his knees approached 
his head in this posture; and the eldest son, paus- 
ing, drew up a chair and sat down to face the 
group. 

“Now for it,” he said. “It looks serious — a 
consultation of the whole. Mayn’t we have 
mother to back us ?” 

“I’ve sent mother to bed,” Mr. Birch explained. 
“She wanted to come down to hear you play, but 
I wouldn’t let her. And indeed there are mo- 
ments ” He glanced quizzically at his eldest 

son. 

“Yes, sir,” Lansing responded, promptly. 
“There are moments when the furnace pipes 
convey up-stairs as much din as she can bear.” 

Mr. Birch sat looking thoughtfully into the fire 
for a minute or two. 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


7 

He began at last, gently, “Celia — has mother 
seemed quite strong to you of late ?” 

“Mother — strong?” asked Celia, in surprise. 
“Why, father, isn’t she? She — had that illness 
last winter, and was a long time getting about, but 
she has seemed well all summer.” 

Their eyes were all upon his face. Even young 
Justin had swung about upon his elbows and was 
regarding his father with attention. They waited, 
startled. 

“I took her to Doctor Forester to-day, and he — 
surprised me a good deal. He seemed to think 
that mother must not spend the coming winter in 
this climate. Don’t be alarmed; I don’t want to 
frighten you, but I want you to appreciate the neces- 
sity. He thinks that if mother were to have a year 
of rest and change we need have no fears for her.” 

“Fears!” repeated Lansing, under his breath. 
Was it possible that anything was the matter with 
mother ? Why, she was the central sun about 
which their little family world moved! There 
could not — must not — be anything wrong with 
mother! 

“Tell us plainly, father,” urged Celia’s soft 
voice. She was pale, but she spoke quietly. 

Charlotte, at the first word of alarm, had turned 
her face away. Jeff’s bright black eyes — he was 


8 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


Charlotte’s counterpart in colouring and looks — 
rested anxiously on the second violin’s curly mop 
of hair, tied at the neck with a big black bow of 
ribbon. It was always most expressive to Jeff, 
that bow of ribbon. 

Lansing repeated Celia’s words. “Yes, tell 
us plainly, sir. We’d rather know.” 

“I am alarming you,” Mr. Birch said, quickly. 
“I knew I could not say the slightest thing about 
her without doing that. But I need to talk it 
over with you all, because if we carry out the 
doctor’s prescription it means much sacrifice for 
every one. I had no doubt that you would make 
it, but I think it is better for you to understand 
its importance. Doctor Forester says New Mexico 
is an almost certain cure for such trouble as 
mother’s, if taken early. And we are taking it 
early.” 

Justin and Jeff looked puzzled, but Celia caught 
her breath, and Lansing’s ruddy colour suddenly 
faded. Charlotte buried her head in her father’s 
shoulder and drew the scarlet flannel arm tighter 
about his neck. 

The iron-gray head bent over the curly black 
one for a moment, as if the strong man of the 
household found it hard to face the anxious eyes 
which searched his, and would have liked, like 
his eighteen-year-old daughter, to run to cover. 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


9 


But in an instant, he looked up again and spoke 
in the cheery tone they knew so well. 

“Now listen, and be brave,” he said. “Mother’s 
trouble is like a house just set on fire. A dash of 
water and a blanket — and it is out. Wait till a 
whole room is ablaze, and it’s a serious matter to 
stop it. Now, in our case, we’ve only the little 
kindling corner to smother, and the New Mexico 
air is water and blanket — a whole fire department, 
if need be. The doctor assures me that with 
mother’s good constitution, and the absence of 
any hereditary predisposition to this sort of thing, 
we’ve only to give her the ten or twelve months 
of rest and reenforcement — the winter in New 
Mexico, the summer in Colorado — to nip the 
whole thing in the bud. I believe him, and you 
must believe him — and me. More than all, you 
must not show the slightest change of front to her. 
She knows it all, but she doesn’t want you to know. 
I think differently about that. 

“Three of you are men and women now, and 
the other two,” he smiled into the upturned, eager 
faces of Jeff and Justin, “are getting to be men. 
Even my youngest can be depended upon to act 
the strong part.” 

Justin scrambled to his feet at that, and gravely 
laid a muscular boy’s hand in his father’s. 


10 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


“I’ll stand by you, sir,” he said. 

Nobody laughed. Charlotte’s black bow 
twitched and a queer sound burst from the shoulder 
where her head was buried. Jeff’s thick black 
lashes went down for a moment; Celia shook two 
bright drops from brimming eyes and patted Just’s 
sturdy shoulder. Mr. Birch shook the hand vig- 
orously without speaking, and only Lansing found 
words to express what they felt. 

“He speaks for us all, I know, sir. And now 
if you’ll tell us our part we’ll take hold. I think 
I know what it means. Trips to New Mexico, 
from New York, are expensive.” 

“They are very expensive,” Mr. Birch replied, 
slowly. “ I must go with her. We must travel in the 
least fatiguing fashion, which means staterooms on 
trains and many extras by the way. She has kept 
up bravely, but this unusual exhaustion after one 
day in town shows me how careful I must be of 
her on the long journey. Then, once away, no ex- 
pense must be spared to make the absence tell for 
all there is in it. And most of all to be considered, 
while I am away there will be — no income.” 

They looked at each other now, Celia at Lansing, 
and Lansing at Jeff, and Jeff at both of them. 
Charlotte sat up suddenly, her cheeks and eyes 
burning, and stared hard at each in turn. 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


ii 


The income would stop. And what would that 
mean ? The family had within three years suffered 
heavy financial losses from causes outside of their 
control, and the father’s income, that of attorney- 
at-law in a large suburban town, had since become 
the only source of support. So far it had sufficed, 
although Charlotte and Celia had been sent away 
to school, and both Celia and Lansing were now in 
college. 

It was the remembrance of these heavy demands 
upon the family purse which now caused the 
young people to look at one another with startled 
questioning. Lansing was about to begin his 
senior year at a great university; Celia had fin- 
ished her first year at a famous women’s college 
Within a fortnight both were expecting to begin 
work. 

Charlotte did not care about a college course, 
but she had planned for two years to go to a school 
of design, for she was a promising young worker 
in things decorative. As for Jefferson, sixteen 
years old, captain of the high-school football team, 
six feet tall, and able to give his brother Lansing a 
hard battle for physical supremacy, his dearest 
dream was a great military school. Even Justin 
— but Justin was only twelve — his dreams could 
wait. His was the only face in the group which 
remained placid during the moments succeeding 


12 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


Mr. Birch’s mention of the astonishing fact about 
the income. 

The father’s observant eyes noted all that his 
children’s looks could tell him of surprise, dis- 
appointment and bewilderment; and of the suc- 
ceeding effort they made to rally their forces and 
show no sign of dismay. 

Lansing made the first effort. “I can drop 
back a year, ” he said, thoughtfully. “ Or I — no — 
merely working my way through this year wouldn’t 
do. It wouldn’t help out at home.” 

“Why, Lanse!” began Celia, and stopped. 

He glanced meaningly at her, and the colour 
flashed back into her cheeks. In the next instant 
she had followed his lead. 

“If Lanse can stay out of college, I can, too,” 
she said, with decision. 

“If I could get some fairly good position,” 
Lanse proposed, “I ought to be able to earn 
enough to — well, we’re rather a large family, and 
our appetites ” 

“I could do something,” began Charlotte, 
eagerly. “I could — I could do sewing ” 

At that there was a general howl, which quite 
broke the solemnity of the occasion. “Charlotte 
— sewing!” they cried. 

“Why not take in washing?” urged Lanse. 

“Or solicit orders for fancy cooking?” 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 




“Or tutor stupid little boys in languages? 
Come! Fiddle — stick to your specialty.” 

Charlotte’s face was a study as she received 
these hints. They represented the things she dis- 
liked most and could do least well. Yet they were 
hardly farther afield than her own suggestion of 
sewing. Charlotte’s inability with the needle was 
proverbial. 

“What position do you consider yourself em- 
inently fitted for, Mr. Lansing Birch?” she in- 
quired, with uplifted chin. 

“You have me there,” her brother returned, 
good-humouredly. “There’s only one thing I can 
think of — to go into the locomotive shops. Me- 
chanics’ wages are better than most, and a little 
practical experience wouldn’t hurt me.” 

It was his turn to be met with derision. It 
could hardly be wondered at, for as he stood be- 
fore them, John Lansing looked the personification 
of fastidiousness, and his face, although it sur- 
mounted a strongly proportioned and well de- 
veloped body, suggested the mental characteristics 
not only of his father, but of certain great- 
grandfathers and uncles, who had won their 
distinction in intellectual arenas. Even his father 
seemed a little daunted at this proposal. 

“That’s it — laugh!” urged Lanse. “If I’d 
proposed to try to get on the ‘reportorial staff’ of a 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


H 

city newspaper you’d all smile approval, as at a 
thing suited to my genius. I’d have to live in 
town to do that, and what little I earned would go 
to fill my own hungry mouth. Now at the shops — 
you needn’t look so top-lofty! Dozens of fellows 
who are taking engineering courses put on the 
overalls, shoulder a lunch-pail and go to work every 
morning during vacation at seven o’clock. They 
come grinning home at night, their faces black as 
tar, their spirits up in Q, jump into a bathtub, put 
on clean togs, and come down to dinner looking 
like gentlemen — but not gentlemen any more 
thoroughly than they have been all day.” 

Jeff looked at his brother seriously. “Lanse,” 
he said, “if you go into one of the locomotive shops 
won’t you get a place for me?” 

But Celia interposed. “Whatever the rest of us 
do,” she said, “JefF and Just must keep on with 
school.” 

JefF rebelled with a grimace. “Not much!” 
he shouted. “I guess one six-footer is as good as 
another in a boiler-shop. You don’t catch me 
swallowing algebra and German when I might be 
developing muscle. If Lanse puts on overalls I’m 
after him.” 

Celia looked at her father. “What do you think 
of all this, sir?” she asked. “If I stay at home, 
dismiss Delia, and do the housework myself, and 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


!5 


Lanse finds some suitable position, can’t we get 
on? Charlotte can put off the school of design 
another year. We will all be very economical 
about clothes ” 

“Being economical doesn’t bring in cash to 
pay bills,” interrupted Jeff. “Do the best he can, 
Lanse won’t draw any hair-raising salary the first 
year. He could probably get clerical work at one 
of the banks, but what’s that? He’d fall off so in 
his wind I could throw him across the room in 
three months.” 

They all laughed. Jeff’s devotion to athletics 
dominated his ideals at all times, and his disgust at 
the thought of such a depletion of his brother’s 
physical forces was amusing. 

Celia was still looking at her father. He spoke 
in the hearty tone to which they were accustomed, 
his face full of satisfaction. 

“You please me very much, all of you,” he said. 
“It will be the best tonic I can offer your mother. 
Her greatest trial is this very necessity, which she 
foresaw the instant the plan was formed — so much 
sacrifice on the part of her children. Yet she 
agreed with me that the experience might not be 
wholly bad for you, and she said” — he paused, 
smiling at his elder daughter — “that with Celia at 
the helm she was sure the family ship wouldn’t be 
wrecked.” 


i6 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


Then he told them that they might plan the di- 
vision of labour and responsibility as they thought 
practicable. He agreed with Celia that the 
younger boys must remain in school, but added — 
since at this point it became necessary to mollify 
his son Jefferson — that a fellow with a will might 
find any number of remunerative odd jobs out of 
school and study hours. He commended Lan- 
sing’s idea, but advised him to look around before 
deciding; and he passed an affectionate hand over 
Charlotte’s black curls as he observed that young 
person sunk in gloom. 

“Cheer up, little girl!” he said. “The second 
violin is immensely important to the music of the 
family orchestra. The hand that can design wall- 
papers can learn to relieve the mistress of the 
house of some of her cares. Celia, without a maid 
in the kitchen, will find plenty of use for such a 
quick brain as lies under this thatch.” 

But at this moment something happened — 
something to which the family were not unused. 
Charlotte suddenly wriggled out from under the 
caressing hand, and in half a dozen quick move- 
ments was out of the room. They had all had a 
vision of brilliant wet eyes, flushing cheeks, and 
red, rebellious mouth. 

“Poor child!” murmured Celia. “She thinks 
we find her of no use.” 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


i7 

“She is rather a scatterbrain/’ Lanse ob- 
served. “The year may do her good, as you say, 
father — as well as the rest of us,” he added, with 
modesty. 

“There’s a lot of things she can do, just the 
same,” — Jeff fired up, instantly — “things the rest 
of us are perfect noodles at. When she gets to 
earning more money in a day than the rest of us 
can in a month maybe we’ll let up on that second- 
fiddle business.” 

“Good for you, you faithful Achates!” said 
Lanse. Then he turned to his father. “You 
haven’t told us yet when you go, sir.” 

“If we can, two weeks from to-day,” said Mr. 
Birch. Then he went up-stairs to tell his wife that 
she might go peacefully to sleep, for her children 
were ready to become her devoted slaves. Justin 
followed Jeff out of the room, and Jeff broke 
away from this younger brother and hastened to 
rap a familiar, comforting signal of comradeship 
on Charlotte’s locked door. 

Left alone, Lanse and Celia looked at each other. 

“Well, old girl ” began Lansing, gently. 

“O Lanse!” breathed Celia. 

He patted her shoulder. “Bear up, dear. It’s 
tough to give up college for a year ” 

“Oh, that's not it!” cried the girl, and buried 
her face in a sofa pillow. 


i8 THE SECOND VIOLIN 

“No, that’s not it,” he answered, under his 
breath. He shook his shoulders and walked 
away to the fire, stood staring down into it for a 
minute with sober eyes, then drew a long breath 
and came back to his sister. 

“It’s a relief that there’s something we can do 
to help her get well,” he said, slowly. “And she 
will get well, Celia — she will — she must!” 


CHAPTER II 


W H ? RE ’S the shawl-strap ?” 

“Charlotte, wait just a moment; are you 
perfectly sure that mother’s dressing sack and 
knit slippers are in the case ? Nobody saw them 

put in, and I don’t ” 

“Justin, run down-stairs, please, and get that 
unopened package of water-biscuit. You’ll find 
it on the pantry shelf, I think.” 

“Lanse, if the furnace runs all night with the 
draught on, your fire will be burned out in the 
morning, and it will take an extra amount of coal 
to get it started again.” 

“Where’s Jeff? He must be told about ” 

“Put mother’s overshoes to warm.” 

“I have left two hundred dollars to your credit 

at the bank, Lansing, and I ” 

“Lanse, did you telephone for ” 

“Where did Celia put the ” 

“Listen, all of you. I ” 

“What did Jeff do with that small white ” 

“Silence!” shouted Lansing, above the din. 
“Can’t you people get these traps together without 
19 


20 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


all yelling at once ? You will have mother so used 
up she can’t start.” 

Mrs. Birch smiled at her tall son from the easy 
chair where she had been placed ten minutes be- 
fore, her family protesting that they could finish the 
numberless small tasks yet to be done. It was 
nine o’clock in the evening, and it lacked but an 
hour of train-time. 

They all looked at the slender figure in the easy 
chair. They had learned in these last two weeks 
to take note of their mother’s appearance as, with 
easy confidence in her exhaustless strength, they 
had never done before. Since the night when they 
had learned that she was not quite well, they had 
discovered for themselves the delicacy of the 
smiling face, the thinness of the graceful body, the 
many small signs by which those who run may 
read the evidences of lessened vitality, if their eyes 
are once opened. They wondered that they had 
not seen it all before, and found the only explana- 
tion in the cheery, undaunted spirit which had 
covered up every sign of fatigue. 

“She is too tired already,” declared Celia. 
“Run away, and let father and me finish.” 

But they would not go. How could they, with 
only an hour left ? They subdued their voices, and 
ran whispering about. Jeff held a long conference 
in an undertone with his mother. Justin perched 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


21 


on the arm of her chair, with his head on her 
shoulder, and she would not have him taken away, 
her own heart sick within her at thought of the long 
absence from them all. Altogether, when one 
took into account the preceding fortnight of mak- 
ing ready for the trip, it was not strange that in this 
last hour of preparation she gave out entirely. 

The first they knew of it was when Mr. Birch, 
with a low exclamation, sprang across the room, 
and catching up his wife in his arms, carried her 
to a couch. 

“ Water !” he said. “And open the window !” 

Startled, they obeyed him. It was only a brief 
unconsciousness, and the lovely brown eyes when 
they unclosed were as full of bravery as ever, but 
Mr. Birch spoke anxiously to Lansing in the hall 
outside. 

“I don’t like to start with her, as worn-out as 
this,” he said. “Yet everything is engaged — the 
state-room and all — and I don’t want to delay 
without reason. There’s not time to send to the 
city for Doctor Forester. Suppose you telephone 
Doctor Ridgway to come around and tell us what 
to do about starting. If he is out, try Sears or 
Barton. Have him hurry. We’ve barely forty- 
five minutes now.” 

In three minutes Lansing came back and 
beckoned his father out of the room. 


22 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


“ They’re all out,” he said. “I tried old Doctor 
Hitchcock, too, but he’s sick in bed. How about 
that new doctor that’s just moved in next door ? 
I like his looks. He certainly will know enough to 
advise about this.” 

Mr. Birch hesitated a moment. “Well, call 
him,” he decided. 

Lansing was already down the stairs. Three 
minutes later he returned with the young doctor. 
Mr. Birch met them in the hall. 

“Doctor Churchill, father.” Mr. Birch looked 
keenly into a pair of eyes whose steady glance 
gave him instantly the feeling that here was a man 
to trust. 

The young people waited impatiently outside 
while Doctor Churchill spent fifteen quiet minutes 
with their father and mother. When Mr. Birch 
came to the door again with the physician, he was 
looking relieved. 

Doctor Churchill paused before the little group, 
his eyes glancing kindly at each in turn, as he 
spoke to Lansing. He certainly was young but 
there was about him an air of quiet confidence and 
decision which one felt instinctively would be 
justified by further acquaintance. 

“Don’t be anxious,” he said. “All this hurry 
of preparation has been a severe test on her, taken 
with her reluctance to leave her home. She is 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


23 


feeling stronger now, and it will be better for her 
to get the leave-taking over than to postpone and 
dread it longer. You will all make it easy for 
her — No breakdowns,” he cautioned, with a 
smile. “New Mexico is a great place, and you 
are doing the best thing in the world in getting her 
off before cold weather.” 

He was gone, but they felt as if a reviving breeze 
had passed over them, and when they went back 
to their mother’s room it was with serene faces. 
If Charlotte swallowed hard at a lump in her 
throat, and Celia lingered an instant behind the 
rest to pinch the colour back into her cheeks, 
nobody observed it. Perhaps each was too occu- 
pied with acting his own light-hearted part. 
Somehow the minutes slipped away, and soon the 
travellers were at the door. 

Into Mrs. Birch’s face, also, the colour had 
returned, summoned there, it may be, not only by 
the doctor’s stimulating draught, but by the insist- 
ence of her own will. 

“Good-by! good-by! God be with you all!” 
murmured Mr. Birch, breaking with difficulty 
away from Justin’s frantic hug. 

Mrs. Birch, on Lansing’s arm, had gone down 
the steps to the carriage. The father followed, 
surrounded by an eager group. Only Lansing was 
to go to the train. The others, as they crowded 


24 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


round the carriage door, were incoherently ming- 
ling parting messages. Then presently they were 
left behind, a suddenly quiet, sober group. 

Inside the carriage Mrs. Birch, with her hand in 
her eldest son’s, was saying to him things he 
never forgot, while his father looked steadily out 
of the window. 

“I leave them in your care, dear,” she told 
Lansing, in the quiet, confident tones to which he 
was used from her. “ I could never go, I think, 
if I hadn’t such a strong, brave, trustworthy son to 
leave in care of the younger ones. Celia will do 
her part, and do it beautifully, I know, but it’s on 
you I rely.” 

“I’ll do my best,” he answered, cheerfully, 
although he felt, even more than before, the heavy 
responsibility upon him. 

“ I know you will. Don’t let Celia overdo. She 
will be so ambitious to run the household econom- 
ically that she will set herself tasks she’s not fit for. 
See that Jeff keeps steadily at his studies, and be 
lenient with Justin. He adores you — you can 
make the year do much for him if you take thought. 
And with my little Charlotte — be very patient, 
Lanse. She will miss us most — and show it least.” 

“I doubt that,” thought Lanse, but aloud he 
said, “We’ll all hang together, mother, you may 
count on that. We have our differences and our 



Courtesy of “ The Youth’s Companion.” 

. . . was saying to him things he never forgot.” 


“ Mrs. Birch 









h 






THE SECOND VIOLIN 


25 


eccentricities, but we’ve a lot of family spirit, and 
no one of us is going to sacrifice alone while the rest 
fail to take notice. And you’re going to know all 
that goes on. We’ve planned to take turns writing 
so that at least every other day a letter will start for 
New Mexico.” 

“And if anything should go wrong?” 

“Nothing will,” asserted Lansing. 

“That you don’t know, dear,” said the gentle 
voice, not quite so steadily as before. “,If any- 
thing should come we must know.” 

“I’ll remember,” he promised, reluctantly, his 
hand under pressure from hers. But inwardly 
he vowed, “Anything short of real trouble you’ll 
not know, little mother. Your children are 
stronger than you now, and they can bear some 
things for you.” 

At the train it took all Lansing’s determination, 
sturdy fellow though he was, to keep up his cheer- 
ful front. The colour had ebbed away from Mrs. 
Birch’s face once more, and as she put up her arms 
to her tall son, in the little stateroom, she seemed 
to him all at once so small and frail that he could 
not endure to see her go away from them all, facing 
even the remote possibility that in the new land 
she might fail to find again her old vigour. 

It had to be done, however. Lansing received 
her clinging good-by, whispered in her ear some- 


26 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


thing which would have been unintelligible to any 
but a mothers intuition, so choky was his voice, 
gripped his father’s hand with both his own, 
turned and smiled back at the two as he pulled 
open the door, and swung off the train just as 
it began to move. 

He raced away over the streets to take a trolley- 
car for home, having dismissed the carriage, and 
craving nothing so much as a long walk in the cool 
September night. 

At home he found everybody gone to bed except 
Celia, who met him at the door. She smiled at 
him, but he could see that she had been crying. 
Although he had carried home a heavy heart, be 
braced himself to begin his task of keeping the 
family cheered up. 

“Off all right!” he announced, in a casual tone, 
as if he had just sent away the guests of a week. 
“Splendid train, -jolly stateroom, porter one of the 
‘ T assir , yassir’ kind. Judge and Mrs. Van 
Camp were taking the same train as far as Chicago. 
That will do a lot toward making things pleasant 
to start with.” 

“ I’m so glad ! ” Celia agreed. “ How did mother 
get off? Did her strength keep up ?” 

“Pretty well — better than I’d have thought 
possible after all the fuss of that last hour. The 
new doctor braced her up in good shape. 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


27 


He seems all right. Didn’t you like the way he 
acted ? Neither like an old family physician nor 
a new johnny-jump-up; just quiet and cool and 
pleasant. Glad he lives next door. I mean to 
know him.” 

Lansing was turning out lights as he talked, 
looking after window fastenings, and examining 
things generally. Celia watched him from her 
place on the bottom stair. He was approaching 
her with the intention of putting out the hall light 
and joining her to proceed up-stairs, when he 
stopped still, wheeled, and made for the back of 
the hall, where the cellar stairs began. 

“I’m forgetting the furnace!” he cried. 

“It’s all right,” Celia assured him. “Jeff took 
care of it. He says that’s his work, since you’re 
to be away all day.” 

“Think he can manage it?” 

“Of course he can. The way to please Jeff is 
to give him responsibility. He’s old enough; and 
even having to look after such small matters 
regularly will help to develop him.” 

Lansing laughed ; then, extinguishing the light, 
he came up to her on the stair, and putting his arm 
about her shoulders, began tp ascend slowly with 
her. 

“Shouldering your cares already, aren’t you? 
Got to keep us all straight, and develop all 


28 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


our characters. Poor girl, you’ll have a hard 
tussle!” 

“I’m afraid I shall. Do you go to work at the 
shops in the morning?” 

“ Yes. Breakfast at six. Did you tell Delia ?” 

“Yes, but I’m going to let her go afterward. 
I arranged with her, when father first told us, to 
stay just till they had gone, and then leave things 
to me. I can’t be too busy from now on, and I 
don’t want to wait a day to begin.” 

“Wise girl. Sorry, though, that I have to get 
you up every morning so early. Couldn’t you 
leave things ready so I could manage for myself 
about breakfast, somehow?” 

“No, indeed! If I’m to have a day-labourer for 
a brother, I shall see that he has a good hot break- 
fast and the heartiest kind of a lunch in his pail 
every day.” 

“You’re the right sort!” murmured Lansing, 
patting his sister’s shoulder as he paused with her 
in front of her door. “ I must admit I shall prefer 
the hot breakfast. Better sleep late to-morrow 
morning, though.” 

“I shall be up when you are, ’’Celia declared. 

“Look here, little girl,” said Lansing, speak- 
ing soberly in the darkness. “You know you 
haven’t got this household on your shoulders all 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


29 


alone. It’s a partnership affair, and don’t you 
forget it. Now, good night, and take care you 
sleep like a top.” 

Celia held him tight for a minute, and answered 
bravely: 

“You’re a dear boy, and a great comfort.” 

Lansing tiptoed away to his own room, farther 
down the hall, feeling a strong sense of relief that 
the determination of the young substitute heads of 
the house to begin the new regime without a pre- 
liminary hour of wailing had been successfully 
carried through. 

“We’ve got the worst over,” he thought, as 
he fell asleep. “Once fairly started, it won’t be so 
bad. Celia’s clear grit, that’s sure.” 

Alone in her room, Celia had it out with herself, 
and spent a wakeful night. But she brought a 
cheerful face to Lansing’s early breakfast, and 
when the younger members of the family came 
down later she was ready for them with the sun- 
shine they had dreaded not to find. 

Everybody spent a busy day. Jeff and Justin 
went off to school. Charlotte announced with 
meekness that she was ready for whatever work 
Celia might find for her, and was given various 
rooms up-stairs to sweep and dust, her sister being 
confident that vigorous manual labour would be 
the best tonic for a mind dispirited. 


30 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


As for Celia herself, she dismissed Delia, the 
maid of all work, with a kindly farewell and the 
letters of recommendation her mother had pre- 
pared, and plunged eagerly into business. She 
was a born manager, and loved many of the de- 
tails of housework, particularly the baking and 
brewing, and she was soon enthusiastically 
employed in putting the small kitchen to 
rights. 

At noon Charlotte and the boys were served 
with a light luncheon, with the promise of greater 
joys to come, and by five in the afternoon the 
house was filled with the delightful odours of suc- 
cessful cookery. 

At that hour Charlotte, whose labours had been 
enlarged by herself to cover a thorough overhauling 
of the entire house — such tasks being her special 
aversion, and therefore to be discharged without 
mitigation on this first day of self-sacrifice — wan- 
dered disconsolately into the kitchen with broom 
and dust-pan, looking sadly weary. She gazed 
with envious eyes at her sister, flying about in a 
big apron, with sleeves rolled up, her cheeks like 
carnations, her eyes bright with triumph. 

“Well, you do start in with vim,” the 
younger sister observed, dropping into a chair 
with a long sigh. 

“Yes; and the work has gone better than I 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


3i 


had hoped,” declared Celia, whisking a tinful of 
plump rolls into the oven. “It’s really fun.” 

“I’m glad you like it.” 

“Poor child,” said Celia, pausing to glance at 
the dejected figure in the chair, its dark curls a riot 
of disorder, a smudge of black upon its forehead, 
and its pinafore disreputable with frequent use as 
a duster, “I gave you too much to do! Didn't I 
hear you in Delia's room ? You needn't have 
touched that to-day.” 

“Wanted to get through with it. Delia may be 
a good cook, but she left a mess of a closet up- 
stairs. Please give me one of those warm cookies. 
I’m so used up and hungry I can't wait for 
supper." 

“Justin came in half an hour ago so famished 
there wouldn't have been a cooky left if I hadn't 
filled him up with a banana. By the way, I sent 
him down cellar after some peach pickles, and I 
haven’t seen him since. I'll run down and get 
some. I've hot rolls and honey for supper, and 
Lanse always wants peach pickles with that com- 
bination.” 

Celia took a bowl from the cupboard, opened 
the cellar door and started down, turning on the 
second step to say: 

“Go and take a bath and put on a fresh frock; 
you won't feel half so tired. Wear the scarlet 


3 2 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


waist, will you ? I want things particularly bright 
and cheery to-night, for I know Lanse will come 
home fagged with the new work. Mrs. Laurier 
sent over some red carnations. Tve put them in 
the middle of the table; they look ever so pretty. 
I’m going to ” 

What she intended to do Celia never told, if she 
ever afterward remembered. What she did do 
was to slip upon the third step of the steep stairway, 
and, with no outcry whatever, go plunging heavily 
to the bottom. 


CHAPTER III 


£^ELIA — Celia — are you hurt?” cried Char- 
lotte, and dashed down the stairs. 

There was no answer. With trembling 
hands she felt for her sister’s head. It lay 
close against the cellar wall, and she instantly 
understood that Celia must be unconscious. But 
whether there might be more to be feared than 
unconsciousness she could not tell in the dark. 
Her first thought was to get a light, the next that 
she must have help at once. 

She rushed up the stairs, calling Jeff* and Justin, 
but neither boy was to be found. Then she ran 
to the telephone, with the idea of summoning one 
of the suburban physicians, but turned aside from 
this purpose with the further realisation that first 
of all Celia must be brought up from the cold, dark 
place in which she lay, and restored to conscious- 
ness. 

She ran to the front door to summon the nearest 
neighbour, and she remembered then, with relief, 
that the nearest neighbour was Doctor Churchill, 
the young physician who had been called in to see 
her mother the evening before. 


33 


34 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


She flew across the narrow lawn between her 
own house and that where the new doctor had set 
up his office, and rang imperatively. The door 
opened, and Doctor Churchill, hat and case in 
hand, evidently on his way to a patient, stood 
before her. 

What he thought of the figure before him, with 
its riotous curly black hair, brilliant eyes, pale 
dark cheeks, dusty pinafore, a singular smudge 
upon the forehead, and sleeves rolled up to the 
elbows, nobody would have known from his man- 
ner, which instantly expressed a friendly concern. 

Charlotte could only gasp, “Oh, come — quick!” 

He followed her, stopping to ask no questions. 
At the open cellar door Charlotte stood aside to 
let him pass. 

“Down there — my sister!” she breathed. 

“Bring a light, please,” said the doctor, and he 
disappeared down the stairs. Charlotte lighted a 
little kitchen lamp and came after him. He bade 
her stand by while he made his first brief exam- 
ination. 

“I think the blow on her head isn’t serious,” he 
said, presently, “but I can’t tell where else she 
may be hurt till I get her up-stairs.” 

He was strong, and he lifted Celia as if she had 
been a child, and carried her easily up the steep 
stairs. 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


35 


Charlotte led the way to a wide couch in the 
living-room. As Celia was laid gently upon it 
she opened her eyes. 

Half an hour later, John Lansing Birch, in his 
oldest clothes and wearing a rather disreputable 
soft hat pulled down over his forehead, with his 
hands and face excessively dirty and a lunch-pail on 
his arm, pushed open the kitchen door. “ Phew-w! 
Something’s burning!” he shouted. “Celia — 
Charlotte — where are you all ? Great Scott, 
what a smudge!” 

He strode across the room and lifted from the 
stove a kettle of potatoes, from which the water 
had boiled away some minutes before. 

“First returns from the amateur cooking dis- 
trict!” he muttered, glancing critically about the 
kitchen. 

Something else in the way of overcooked viands 
seemed to assail his nostrils, and he jerked open the 
oven door. A tin of blackened rolls puffed out at 
him their pungent smoke. 

“Well, what ” he was beginning with the 

natural irritation of the hungry man, who has been 
anticipating his supper all the way home, and sees 
it in ruin before his eyes, when Charlotte appeared 
in the doorway. 

“O Lanse!” she cried, and ran to him. 

“Well, what is it? Celia got a headache and 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


36 

left you in charge ? Everything's burnt up — I 
can tell you that " 

“Celia is — she's broken her knee!" 

“What?” 

“She fell down the cellar stairs and " 

“Where is she?" Lunch-pail and hat went 
down on the floor as Lanse got rid of them and 
seized Charlotte's arm. 

“Up in her room. Doctor Churchill's there. 
He's sent for Doctor Forester." 

“Churchill — Forester," repeated Lanse, as if 
dazed. “Poor old girl — is she much hurt?" 

“She's broken her knee, I tell you," Charlotte 
repeated. “Of course she's much hurt. She's 
suffering dreadfully. She hit her head, too. She 
was unconscious at first. I was all alone with her." 

Lanse started for the door, then hesitated. 
“Shall I go up?" 

“The doctor wants to see you as soon as you are 
home. He's waiting for Doctor Forester. He's 
made Celia as comfortable as he can, but wants 
our regular doctor here, he says, before he does up 
her knee. I don't see why. I wanted him to fix 
it himself." 

“That's all right," said Lanse. “Doctors 
always do that kind of thing — the honourable 
ones do. It's better to have Doctor Forester see it, 
too. Did you get him ? Will he be here right off ? " 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


37 


“ The doctor got him. He’ll be here soon. ” 

“Go tell Doctor Churchill I’m here, will you? 
Maybe Td better not see Celia till Fm cleaned up 
a bit. She’s not used to me like this. Poor little 
girl! poor little girl!” he groaned, as he made his 
rapid way to the bath-room. “The cellar stairs — 
they’re dark and steep enough, but how could a 
light-footed girl like Celia get a fall like that ? And 
father and mother — how are we going to fix it 
with them ?” 

In the midst of his splashing and scrubbing he 
heard Jeff and Justin come shouting in for supper 
and Charlotte hushing them and telling them the 
news. The next instant Jeff was upon him. 

“Say, but this is awful, Lanse! She was getting 
up a rattling good dinner, too — been at it all day. 
Her one idea was to please you, your first day at the 
shops. Been up to see her ? Charlotte says I’d 
better not go yet — nor Just. Just’s all broken up, 
poor youngster! Says Celia told him to go after 
the pickles, and he forgot it. If he’d gone she 
wouldn’t have got her tumble. What’ll father and 
mother say ? What are we going to do, anyhow ? 
Second Fiddle’s no good on earth in the kitchen; 
she couldn’t boil an egg. Say, breaking your 
knee-pan’s no joke. Price Williston did it a year 
ago August, and he hasn’t got good use of it yet, 
— ’fraid he never will ” 


38 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


“Oh, let up on that,” — Lanse cut him short, 
— “and don’t mention it again to anybody. 
Doctor Forester and Churchill will fix her up all 
right, only it’s an awful shame it should have 
happened. I’m going up to see Doctor Churchill.” 

At the foot of the stairs he met that person com- 
ing down, shook hands with him eagerly, and 
listened to a brief and concise account of his sister’s 
injury. As it ended, Doctor Forester’s automobile 
rolled up to the door. 

“Did the five and a half miles in precisely 
twenty minutes,” said Doctor Forester, as he came 
up the steps, watch in hand; “slow speed within 
limits and all. Lanse, my boy, this is too bad. 
Doctor Churchill — very glad to see you again. 
Decided to settle out here, eh ? Well, on some 
accounts I think you’re wise. Charlotte, little girl, 
cheer up ! There are worse things than a fractured 
patella — I believe that’s what you called the 
injury, Doctor Churchill.” 

In such genial fashion the surgeon and old friend 
of the family made his entry, bringing with him that 
atmosphere which men of his profession carry 
about with them, making the people who have 
been anxiously awaiting them feel that here is some- 
body who knows how to take things coolly, and is 
not upset at the notion of a broken bone. 

He moved deliberately up-stairs toward Celia’s 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


39 


room, listening to the younger physician’s state- 
ment of the conditions under which he had been 
called, turning at the door to smile and nod back 
at Charlotte, who watched him from the top of the 
staircase with serious eyes. 

At the end of what seemed like a long period 
of time the two physicians came down-stairs 
together, meeting Lanse at the foot. 

“Well, sir,” said Doctor Forester, “so far, so 
good. Celia is as comfortable as such cases 
usually are an hour or two afterward, which is not 
saying much from her point of view, though a 
good deal from ours. She has a long siege of 
inactivity before her to put that knee into a strong 
condition, but it will not be a great while before 
she can be about on crutches, I hope. Doctor 
Churchill, at my insistence, has put up the knee in 
the best possible shape, and I am going to leave 
it in his care. I’ll drop in now and then, but the 
doctor is right beside you, and I’ve full confidence 
in him. I knew his father, and I know enough 
about him to be sure that you’re all right in his 
hands.” 

Lanse drew a long breath of relief. “I’m very 
thankful it’s no worse,” he said. “But, Doctor 
Forester, what are we to do about father and 
mother ? We can’t tell them ” 

“Tell them! No!” said Doctor Forester, with 


4 o 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


decision. “I wouldn’t have your mother told 
under any consideration, so long as the girl does 
well. She would be back here on the next train 
and then we’d have something worse than a broken 
patella on our hands. If there is any way by which 
you can let your father know I should do that.” 

“I can, I think,” said Lanse, thoughtfully. 
“We’re to send them general-delivery letters until 
they’re settled, and father will get those at the post- 
office and read them first.” 

“As to your other problems — housekeeping and 
all that, over which Celia is several times more 
worried than over her own condition — can you 
figure those out ?” 

“Yes, somehow.” 

“Good! Go up and tell her so. She thinks 
the house is going to destruction without her. 
Good chance for the second violin. Too bad that 
clever little orchestra will have to drop its practice 
for a few weeks. I meant to run in some evening 
soon and hear you play. Well, I’m overdue at the 
hospital. Good-by, Lanse — Doctor Churchill. 
Keep me posted concerning the knee.” 

Then the busy surgeon, who had put off* several 
engagements to come out to the suburban town 
and look after the family of his old friend, whom 
he had known and loved since their college days, 
was off in his runabout, his chauffeur getting 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


4i 

promptly under as much headway as the law al- 
lows, and rushing him out of sight in a hurry. 

Lanse turned to Doctor Churchill, who stood 
upon the porch beside him, hat and case in hand. 

“I’m mighty thankful you were so near,” he 
said. 

“ Doctor Forester hasn’t given you much choice,” 
said the other man, smiling. “I did my best to 
give you the chance of having some one of the 
physicians you know here in town take charge of 
the case, but he insisted on my keeping it. I should 
like, however, to be sure that you are satisfied. 
You don’t know me at all, you know.” 

The steady eyes were looking keenly at Lanse, 
and he felt the sincerity in the words. He returned 
the scrutiny without speaking for an instant; then 
he put out his hand. 

“Somehow I feel as if I do,” he said, slowly. 
“Anyhow, I’m going to know you, and I’m glad of 
the chance.” 

“Thank you.” Doctor Churchill shook hands 
warmly and went down the steps. “I will come 
over for a minute about ten o’clock,” he added, 
“to make sure that Miss Birch is resting as quietly 
as we can hope for to-night.” 

Lanse watched the broad-shouldered, erect figure 
cross the lawn and disappear in the office door of 
the old house near by; then he turned. 


42 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


“Well, we’re in a sweet scrape now, that’s 
certain,” he said gloomily to himself, as he 
marched up-stairs. 

At the top he encountered his young brother 
Justin. That twelve-year-old stood awaiting him, 
his face so disconsolate that in spite of himself 
Lanse smiled. 

“Cheer up, youngster,” he said. “It’s pretty 
tough, but as Doctor Forester says, it might be 
worse. Want to go in with me and see sister a 
minute ?” 

But Justin got hold of his arm and held him 
back. “Lanse, I’ve got to tell you something,” 
he begged. “Please come here, in your room 
a minute.” 

Lanse followed, wondering. Justin, although 
a healthy and happy boy enough, was apt to take 
things seriously, and sometimes needed to be 
joked out of singular notions. In Lanse’s room 
Justin carefully locked the door. 

“It’s all my fault, Celia’s knee,” he said, going 
straight to the point, as was his way. His voice 
shook a little, but he went steadily on. “She sent 
me down cellar after pickles, and I sat on the top 
of the stairs finishing up a banana before I went. 
I’ve been down there to look, and — and the 
banana skin was there — all mashed. It was 
what did it.” 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


43 


He choked, and turned away to the window. 

“You left a banana skin on those stairs ?” Lanse 
half-shouted. 

“Yes.” 

“Right there, at the top — when Delia almost 
broke her neck more than once going down those 
stairs only last winter, just because they’re so steep 
and narrow ?” 

Just nodded. 

“And you fell on a banana skin once yourself, 
and wanted to thrash the fellow who left it!” 

Just’s chin sank lower and lower. 

Lanse eyed him a moment, struggling with a 
desire to seize the boy and punish him tremen- 
dously. But as his quick wrath cooled a trifle in 
his effort to control himself and act wisely, some- 
thing about Just’s brave acknowledgment, where 
silence would have covered the whole thing, ap- 
pealed to him. The thought of the way the absent 
father and mother had met every confession of his 
own that he could remember in a life of prank- 
playing softened the words which came next to 
his lips. 

“Well, it’s pretty bad,” he said, in a deep voice 
of regret. “I don’t wonder it breaks you up. Such 
a little thing to do so much mischief — and so easy 
to have avoided it all. I reckon you’ll take care of 
your banana skins after this. But I like the way 


44 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


you own up, Just, and so will Celia. That’s 
something. You haven’t been a sneak in addition « 
to being thoughtless. It would have been hard to 
forgive you if I had found it out while you kept 
still. It’s pretty hard as it is,” he could not help 
adding, as his imagination pictured Celia spending 
her winter as a cripple. 

Just said not a word, but the outline of his profile 
against the fading light at the window was so sug- 
gestive of boyish despair that the elder brother 
walked over to him and laid a hand on his 
shoulder. 

“It gives you a chance to make it up to her in 
every way you can,” he said. “There are a lot 
of things you can do for her, and I shall expect you 
to try to square the account a little.” 

“I will! Oh, I will!” cried poor Just, who had 
longed for his mother in this crisis,, and had found 
facing the elder brother, whom he both admired 
and feared, harder than anything he had ever had 
to do. “I’ll do anything in the world for her, if 
she’ll only forgive me.” 

“She’ll forgive you, for she’s made that way. 
It’s forgiving yourself that can’t be done.” 

“I never shall.” 

“Don’t. If I thought you would, I’d thrash 
you on the spot,” said Lanse, grimly, sure that a 
wholesome remorse was to be encouraged. Then 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


45 

he relented sufficiently to say in a tone considerably 
less severe: 

“Go and wash up, and begin your good reso- 
lutions by getting down and seeing to the kitchen 
fire. It’s undoubtedly burnt itself out by this 
time. There’s probably no dinner for anybody, 
but we can’t mind little things like that to-night.” 

He went to Celia’s room at last, feeling many 
cares upon him, a sensation which an empty 
stomach did not tend to relieve. He found his 
sister able to give him a very pale-faced but cou- 
rageous smile, and to receive his earnest sympathy 
with a faint: 

“Never mind, dear. Don’t worry. It might 
have been worse.” 

“That seems to be everybody’s motto, so I’ll 
accept it. We’ll take courage, and you shall have 
us all on our knees, since yours are laid up for 
repairs.” 

“You haven’t had your dinner, Lanse,” mur- 
mured Celia. She was suffering severely, but she 
could not relax anything of her anxiety for the 
family welfare. 

“Oh, I forgot there was such a thing as dinner 
in the world!” cried Charlotte, and was hurrying 
to the door when Celia called her back. “Please 
wash that smudge off your face,” she whispered, 
and covered her eyes. 


CHAPTER IV 


OMING downstairs from Celia’s room, Dr. 



Andrew Churchill made his way through 
what had now become somewhat familiar 
ground to the little kitchen. As he looked in 
at the door he beheld a slim figure in a big 
Turkey-red apron, bending over a chicken which 
lay, in a state of semi-dissection, upon the table. 
As he watched for a moment without speak- 
ing, Charlotte herself spoke, without turning 
round. 

“You horrid thing!” she said, tragically, to the 
chicken. “I hate you — all slippery and bloody. 
Ugh! Why won’t your old windpipe come out? 
How anybody can eat you who has got you ready 
I don’t know!” 

“May I bother you for a pitcher of hot water ?” 
asked an even voice from the doorway. 

Charlotte turned with a start. Her cheeks, 
already flushed, took on a still ruddier hue. 

“Yes, if you’ll please help yourself,” she an- 
swered, curtly, turning back to her work. “I am 
— engaged.” 

“I see. A congenial task ?” 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


47 


“Very!” Charlotte’s tone was expressive. 

“Did I gather that the fowl’s windpipe was the 
special cause of your distress?” asked the even 
voice again. 

Charlotte faced round once more. 

“Doctor Churchill,” she said, “I never cleaned 
a chicken in my life. I don’t know what I’m 
doing at all, only that I’ve been doing it for almost 
an hour, and it isn’t done. I presume it’s because 
I take so much time washing my hands.” 

She smiled in spite of herself as the doctor’s 
hearty laugh filled the little kitchen. 

“I think I can appreciate your feelings,” he 
remarked. 

He walked over to the table. “Get a good 
hold on the offending windpipe, shut your eyes and 
pull.” 

“I’m afraid of doing something wrong.” 

“You won’t. The trachea of the domestic 
fowl was especially designed for the purpose, only 
the necessary attachment for getting a firm grip 
on it was accidentally omitted.” 

“It certainly was.” Charlotte tugged away 
energetically for a moment, and drew out the 
wind-pipe successfully. The doctor regarded the 
bird with a quizzical expression. 

“I should advise you to cut up the chicken and 
make a fricassee of it,” he observed. 


48 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


“I want to roast it. I’ve got the stuffing all 
ready.” She indicated a bowlful of macerated 
bread-crumbs mixed with milk and butter, and 
liberally seasoned with pepper. 

“I see. But I’m a little, just a little, afraid you 
may have trouble in getting the stuffing to stay in 

while the chicken is roasting. You see ” He 

paused. 

“I suppose I’ve cut it open too much.” 

“ Rather — unless you’re a very good amateur 
surgeon. And even then ” 

“Pm no surgeon — Pm no cook — I never shall 
be! I — don’t want to be!” Charlotte burst 
out, suddenly, beginning to cut up the chicken 
with vigorous slashes, mostly in the wrong 
places. 

“Yes, you do. Hold on a minute! That joint 
isn’t there: it’s farther down. There. See? Once 
get the anatomy of this bird in your mind, and it 
won’t bother you a bit to cut it up. Pardon me, 
Miss Charlotte, but I know you do want to be a 
good cook — because you want to be an accom- 
plished woman.” 

Charlotte put down her knife, washed her hands 
with furious haste, got out a pitcher, poured it full 
of hot water, and handed it silently to Doctor 
Churchill without looking at him. He glanced 
from it to her with amusement as he received it. 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 49 

“lhank you,” he said, politely, and walked 
away. 

When he came down-stairs fifteen minutes 
later, he found the slim figure in the Turkey-red 
apron waiting for him at the bottom. As the girl 
looked up at him he noted, as he had done many 
times already in the short two weeks he had known 
her, the peculiar, gipsy-like beauty of her face. 
It was a beauty of which she herself, he had occas- 
ion to believe, was absolutely unconscious, and 
in this he was right. 

Charlotte disliked her dark skin, despised her 
black curls, and considered her vivid colouring a 
most undesirable inheritance. She admired in- 
tensely Celia’s blonde loveliness, and lost no 
chance of privately comparing herself with her 
sister, to Celia’s infinite advantage. 

“ Doctor Churchill,” she said, as he approached 
her, hat in hand, “ I was very rude to you just now. 
I am — sorry.” 

She held out her hand. Doctor Churchill took 
it. Charlotte ’s thick black lashes swept her cheek, 
and she did not see the look, half-laughing, half- 
sympathetic, which rested on her downcast face. 

“It’s all right,” said Doctor Churchill’s low, 
clear voice. “Don’t think I fail to understand 
what it means for the cares of a household like 
this to descend upon a girl’s shoulders. But I 


5o 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


want you to know that I — that they are all im- 
mensely pleased with the pluck you are showing. 
I have seen your sister’s lunch tray several times 
since I have been coming here; it was perfect.” 

“I burned her toast just this morning,” said 
Charlotte, quickly. “And poached the egg too 
hard. Lanse says the coffee is better, but — oh, 
no matter — Pm just discouraged this morning, 
I — shall learn something some time, perhaps, 

but ” She turned away impulsively. Doctor 

Churchill followed her a step or two. 

“See here, Miss Charlotte,” he said, “how 
many times have you been out of the house since 
your sister was hurt?” 

“Not at all,” owned Charlotte, “except even- 
ings, after everything is done. Then I steal out 
and run round and round the house in the moon- 
light, just running it off, you know — or maybe 
you don’t know. ” 

“Yes, I do. Will you do something now if I 
ask you to very humbly ?” 

Charlotte looked at him doubtfully. “If you 
mean go for a walk — which is what doctors always 
mean, I believe — I haven’t time.” 

Doctor Churchill looked at his watch. ' “It is 
half past ten. Is that chicken for luncheon ?” 

“No, for supper — or dinner — I don’t know just 
what it is we have at night now. I simply began 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


5i 


to get it ready this morning because I hadn’t the 
least idea in the world how long it takes to cook a 
chicken.” She was smiling a little at the ab- 
surdity of her own words. 

“And you didn’t want to ask your sister ?” 

“I meant to surprise her.” 

“Well, of one thing I am fairly confident,” 
said Doctor Churchill, with gravity. “If you 
take a run down as far as the old bridge and back, 
there will still be time to see to the chicken. What 
is more, by the time you get back, all big obstacles 
will look like little ones to you. Go, please. I 
am to be in the office for the next hour, and if the 
house catches fire I will run over and put it out. 
I could even undertake to steal in the back door 
and put coal on the kitchen fire, if it is necessary.” 

“It won’t be.” 

“Then will you go ?” 

“Perhaps — to humour you,” promised Char- 
lotte. 

“Thank you! And remember, please, Miss 
Charlotte, if you are to do justice to yourself and 
to your family, you must not plod all the time. 
Plan to get away every day for an hour or two. 
Go to see your friends — anything — but don’t 
cultivate ‘ house nerves’ at eighteen.” 

“I’m older than that,” said Charlotte, as she 
watched him go down the steps. Fie turned, 


52 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


surprised. “But I shall not tell you how much/’ 
said she, and closed the door. 

Doctor Churchill went straight through his 
small bachelor house to the kitchen. Here a tall, 
thin woman, with sharp eyes and kindly mouth, 
was energetically kneading bread. 

“Mrs. Fields,” said he, “I wish you would find 
it necessary to-morrow morning to run in at that 
door over there” — he indicated the little back porch 
of the Birch house — “and borrow something.” 

Mrs. Fields eyed him as if she thought he had 
taken leave of his senses. “Me — borrow?” 
she said. “Doctor Andrew — are you ” 

“No, I’m not crazy,” the doctor assured her, 
smiling. “I know it’s tremendously against your 
principles, but never mind the principles, for 
once — since by ignoring them you can do a kind- 
ness. Run in and borrow a cup of sugar or some- 
thing, and get acquainted.” 

“Who with? That curly-haired girl with the 
red cheeks? She don’t want my acquaintance.” 

“She would be immensely grateful for it if it 
came about naturally. Take over some of your 
jelly for Miss Birch, if that way suits you better, 
but get to know Miss Charlotte, and show her a 
few things about cookery. She’s trying to do all 
the work for the whole family, and she knows 
very little about it. ” 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


53 


* 

"I suspected as much. You haven't told me 
about 'em, and of course, being a doctor's house- 
keeper, I'm too well trained to ask." 

The doctor smiled, for Mrs. Fields had been 
housekeeper in his mother’s family in the days of 
his boyhood, and she felt it her right to tell him, 
now and then, what she thought. She was im- 
mensely proud of her own ability to hold her tongue 
and her curiosity in check. 

“So I know only what I've seen. You told me 
the oldest girl had broke her knee, and that’s all 
you’ve said. But I see this girl a-hanging dish- 
towels, and opening the kitchen door to let out the 
smoke each time she's burned up a batch of some- 
thing, and I guessed she wasn't what you might 
call a graduate of one of those cooking-schools." 

“You must be a bit tactful," warned the 
doctor. “The young lady is a trifle sensitive, as 
is natural, over her inefficiency, but she's very 
anxious to learn, and there's nobody to teach her. 
She is too independent togo tothe otherneighbours, 
but I’ve an idea you could be a friend to her." 

“She looks pretty notional," Mrs. Fields said, 
doubtfully. “Shakes out her dust-cloth with her 
chin in the air " 

“To avoid the dust." 

“And pulls down the shades the minute the 
lamp is lighted " 


54 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


“So do you.” 

“I saw her lock the kitchen door in the face of 
that Mis’ Carter the other day, when she caught 
sight of her coming up the walk.” 

“See here, Fieldsy, you’ve been spying on your 
neighbours,” said Doctor Churchill severely. “You 
despise that sort of thing yourself, so you mustn’t 
yield to it. Go over and be neighbourly, as 
nobody knows how better than yourself, but don’t 
judge people by their chins or their curls.” 

He gave her angular shoulder an affectionate 
pat, looked straight into her sharp eyes for a 
moment, until they softened perceptibly, said, 
“You’re all right, you know,” — and went whist- 
ling away. 

“That’s just like your impudence, Andy Church- 
ill,” said Mrs. Hepsibah Fields to herself, as she 
laid her smooth loaves of bread-dough into their 
tins and proceeded energetically to scrape the 
board. “You always did have a way with you, 
wheedling folks into doing what they didn’t want 
to just to please you. Now I’ve got to go med- 
dling in other people’s business and getting 
snubbed, most likely, just because you’re trying to 
combine friendship and doctoring.” 

But Mrs. Fields, when her work was done, 
went to look up her best jelly, as Doctor Churchill 
had known she would do. And twenty-four 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


55 

hours had not gone by before she had made friends 
with Charlotte Birch. 

It was not hard to make friends with the girl 
if one went at it aright. Mrs. Fields came in as 
Charlotte was stirring up gingerbread. 

“I don’t think much of back-door neighbours,” 
Mrs. Fields said, “but I didn’t want to come to 
the front door with my jelly. I thought maybe 
your sister would relish my black raspberry.” 

“That’s very kind of you,” said Charlotte. 
“You are — I think I’ve seen you across the way. 
Won’t you come in ?” 

“No, thank you. You’re busy, and so am I. 
Yes, I’m Doctor Churchill’s housekeeper, and 
his mother’s before that.” 

The sharp eyes noted with approval, in one 
swift glance as Charlotte turned away with the 
jelly, the fact that the little kitchen was in careful 
order. To be sure, it was four o’clock in the 
afternoon, an hour when kitchens are supposed to 
be in order, if ever, yet it was a relief to Mrs. 
Fields to find this one in that condition. Brass 
faucets gleamed in the afternoon sunlight, the 
teakettle steamed from a shining spout, the 
linoleum-covered floor was spotless, and the table 
at which Charlotte was stirring her gingerbread 
had been scrubbed until it was as nearly white as 
pine boards can be made. 


56 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


“ Gingerbread ?” said the housekeeper, linger- 
ing in the doorway. “ I always like to make that. 
It seems the biggest result for the smallest labour 
of anything you can make, and it smells so spicy 
when it comes out of the oven. ,, 

“Yes, when it isn’t burned,” agreed Charlotte, 
with a laugh. Things had gone fairly well with 
her that day, and her spirits had risen accordingly. 

“Burning’s a thing that will happen to the best 
cooks once in a while. ’Twas just day before 
yesterday I blacked a pumpkin pie so the doctor 
poked his fun at me all the time he was eating it,” 
said the housekeeper, with a taptful disregard for 
the full truth, which was that a refractory small 
patient in the office had driven the doctor to re- 
quire her assistance for a longer period than was 
consistent with attention to her oven. 

“Oh, did you?” asked Charlotte, eagerly. 
“That encourages me. Doctor Churchill told 
me he had the finest cook in the state, and I’ve 
been envying you ever since.” 

“Doctor Churchill had better be careful how 
he brags,” Mrs. Fields declared, much gratified. 
“Well, now, I’ll tell you what you do. It ain’t 
but a step across the two back yards. When you 
get in a quandary how to cook anything — how 
long to give it or whether to bake or boil — you 
just run across and ask me. I ain’t one o’ the 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


57 


prying kind — the doctor’ll tell you that — and 
you needn’t be afraid it’ll go any further. I know 
how hard it must be for a young girl like you to 
take the care of a house on yourself, and I’ll be 
pleased to show you anything I can.” 

“That’s very good of you,” said Charlotte, 
gratefully, as Mrs. Fields went briskly down the 
steps; and she really felt that it was. She would 
have resented the appearance of almost any of 
her neighbours at her back door with an offer of 
help, suspecting that they had come to use their 
eyes, and afterward their tongues, in criticism. 
But something about Mrs. Hepsibah Fields dis- 
armed her at once. She could not tell why. 

“This gingerbread is perfect,” said Celia, an 
hour later, when Charlotte had brought up her 
supper. “You are improving every day. But it 
frets me not to have you come to me for help. I 
could plan things for you, and teach you all the 
little I know. I’m doing so well now, the doctor 
says I may get down-stairs on the couch by next 
week. Then you certainly must let me do my 
part.” 

But Charlotte shook her head obstinately. 
“I’m going to fight it through myself. I’d rather. 
You’ve enough to do — writing letters.” 

When Lanse came into Celia’s room that even- 
ing, his first words were merry 


58 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


“What I’m anxious to know,” he said, “is 
what you did with your rice pudding. Charlotte 
says you ate it — and the inference was that it was 
good to eat. So I ate mine — manfully, I assure 
you. But it was a bitter dose.” 

“Poor little girl! She tries so hard, Lanse. 
And the gingerbread was very good.” 

“So it was. It helped take out the taste of 
the pudding. Did you honestly eat that pud- 
ding?” 

“See here.” Celia beckoned him close. She 
reached a cautious hand under her pillow and 
drew out her soap-dish. “Please get rid of it for 
me,” she whispered, “and wash the dish. I 
couldn’t bear not to seem to eat it, so I slipped it 
in there.” 

Striving to smother his mirth, Lanse bore the 
soap-dish away. Returning with it, he carefully 
replaced the soap and set the dish on the stand, 
where it had been within Celia’s reach. “I wish 
I had had a soap-dish at the table,” he remarked, 
“but the cook’s eye was upon me, and I had to 
stand up to it. But see here. I’ve a letter for 
you — from Uncle Rayburn.” 

Celia stretched an eager hand, for a letter from 
Uncle John Rayburn — middle-aged, a bachelor, 
and an ex-army officer, retired by an incurable 
injury which did not make him the less the best 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


59 


uncle in the world — could not fail to be welcome. 
But she had not read a page before she dropped 
the sheet and stared helplessly and anxiously at 
Lanse. 

“ What’s up ?” he asked. 

“Why, Uncle Rayburn writes that he would 
like to come to spend the winter with us,” an- 
swered Celia 

“What luck!” 

“Luck — with Charlotte in the kitchen?” 

“Uncle Ray is a crack-a-jack of a cook himself. 
His board bill will help out like oil on a dry axle, 
and if we don’t have a lot of fun, then Uncle Ray 
has changed as — I know he hasn’t.” 


CHAPTER V 


npWO cripples,” declared Capt. John Ray- 
burn — honourably discharged from active 
service in the United States Army on account 
of permanent disability from injuries received 
in the Philippines, — “two cripples should be able 
to keep a household properly stirred up. Fve 
been here five days now, and my soul longs for 
some frivolity.” 

He leaned back in his big wicker armchair and 
looked quizzically across at his niece Celia, who 
lay upon her couch at the other side of the room. 
She gave him a somewhat pale-faced smile in re- 
turn. Four weeks of enforced quiet were be- 
ginning to tell on her. 

“Some frivolity,” repeated Captain Rayburn, 
as Charlotte came to the door of the room. “What 
do you say, Charlie girl ? Shall we have some 
fun ?” 

“Dear me, yes, Uncle Ray,” Charlotte re- 
sponded, promptly, “if you can think how!” 

“I can. Is there a birthday or anything that 
we may celebrate ? Tve no compunction about 


60 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


61 


getting up festivities on any pretext, but if there 
happened to be a birthday handy ” 

“ November — yes. Why, we had forgotten 
all about it! Lanse’s birthday is the fourth. 
That’s ” 

“ Day after to-morrow. Good! Can you make 
him a birthday-cake ? If not, I ” 

“Oh, yes, I can!” cried Charlotte, eagerly. 
“I’ve just learned an orange-cake.” 

“All right. Then we’ll order a few little things 
from town, and have a jollification. Not a very 
big one, on account of the lady on the couch there, 
who reminds me at the moment of a water-lily 
whom some one has picked and then left on the 
stern seat in the sun. She looks very sweet, but 
a trifle limp.” 

Celia’s smile was several degrees brighter than 
the previous one had been. Nobody could resist 
Uncle Ray when he began to exert himself to cheer 
people up. 

He was a young, or an old, bachelor, according 
to one’s point of view, being not yet forty, and 
_ looking, in spite of the past suffering which had 
brought into his chestnut hair two patches of gray 
at the temples, very much like a bright-faced boy 
with an irrepressible spirit of energy and interest 
in the life abouc him. It could hardly be doubted 
that Capt. John Rayburn, apparently invalided for 


62 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


life and cut off from the activity which had been 
his dearest delight, must have his hours of de- 
pression, but nobody had ever caught him in one 
of them. 

“I should like some music at this festival,” 
Captain Rayburn went on. “Is the orchestra out 
of practice ?” 

“We haven't played for six weeks,” Charlotte 
said. “And Celia's first violin ” 

“You couldn’t play, bolstered up?” 

Celia shook her head. “ I should be tired in ten 
minutes.” 

“ I'm not so sure of that, but we'll see. Anyhow, 
I’ve the old flute here ” 

“Oh, fine!” cried Charlotte. 

“Suppose we ask Doctor Forester out, and your 
young doctor here next door, and two or three of 
your girl friends, and a boy and girl or two for 
Jeff and Just.” 

“What a funny mixture, Uncle Ray! Doctor 
Forester and Norman Carter, Just’s chum, and 
Carolyn Houghton?” 

“Funny, is it?” inquired Captain Rayburn, 
undisturbed. “Now do you know, that's my ideal 
of a well-planned company, particularly when all 
the family are to be here. Invite somebody for 
each one, mix 'em all up, play some jolly games, 
and you'll find Doctor Forester vying with Nor- 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


^3 

man Carter for the prize, and enjoying it equally 
well. It sharpens up the young wits to be pitted 
against the older ones, and it — well, it burnishes 
the elder rapiers and keeps them keen.” 

“All right, this is your party,” agreed Charlotte, 
and she went back to her duties. 

“ You’re not afraid it will be too much for you, 
little girl f ” Captain Rayburn asked Celia, whose 
smile had faded, and who lay with her head turned 
away. 

“Oh— no.” 

,e Mercury a little low in the tube this morning ?” 

“Just a little.” 

“Any good reason why ?” 

“N-no.” 

“Except the best reason in the world — heavy 
atmospheric pressure. Knee a trifle slow to be- 
come a solid, capable, energetic knee, such as its 
owner demands. Owner a bit restless, physically 
and mentally. Plans for the winter upset — second 
lieutenant winning spurs while the colonel lies in 
the hospital tent, fighting imaginary battles and 
trying to keep cool under the strain.” 

Celia looked round and smiled again, but her 
head went back to its old position, and tears forced 
themselves out from under the eyelids which she 
shut tightly together. 

“And a little current of anxiety for the inhab- 


6 4 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


itants of New Mexico keeps flowing under the edge 
of the tent and makes the colonel fear it’s not 
pitched in the right place ?” 

Celia nodded. 

“Well, that’s not warranted in the face of the 
facts. Latest advices from New Mexico report 
improvement, even sooner than we could have 
expected. Then at home — Lanse is conquering 
the situation in the locomotive shops very satis- 
factorily. Doctor Churchill told me yesterday 
that he’s won the liking of nearly all the men in his 
shop — which means more than a girl like you can 
guess. Jeff and Just are prospering in school, 
according to Charlotte, who is herself working up 
in her new profession, and whose last beefsteak 
was broiled to a turn, as her critical soldier guest 
appreciates. As for Celia ” 

He got to his feet slowly, grasped his two stout 
hickory canes and limped across the room to the 
couch, showing as he went a pitiful weakness in the 
tall figure, whose lines still suggested the martial 
bearing which it had not long ago presented, and 
which it might never present again. Captain Ray- 
burn sat down close beside Celia and took her hand. 

“In one thing I made a misstatement,” he said, 
softly. “They’re not imaginary battles that the 
colonel lies fighting in the hospital tent. They’re 
real enough.” 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 65 

There was a short silence; then Celia spoke 
unsteadily from the depths of her pillow: 

“Uncle Ray, were you ever mean enough to be 
jealous ?” 

The captain looked quickly at the fair head on 
the pillow. “Jealous ?” said he, without a hint 
of surprise in his voice. “Why, yes — jealous 
of my colonel, my lieutenants, my orderlies, my 
privates, my doctors, my nurses — jealous of the 
very Filipino prisoners themselves — because 
they all had legs and could walk.” 

“Oh, I know — I don’t mean that!” cried Celia. 
“Of course you envied everybody who could walk. 
Poor Uncle Ray! But you weren’t small enough 
to mind because the officers under you had got 
your chance ?” 

“Wasn’t I, though? Well, maybe I wasn’t,” 
said the captain, speaking low. “Perhaps I didn’t 
lie and grind my teeth when they told me about 
the gallant work Lieutenant Garretson had done 
with my men at Balangiga. A mere bqy, Garret- 
son! The whole world applauded it. If I’d not 
been knocked out so soon it would have been 
my name that would have gone into history. 
Yes, I chewed that to shreds many a sleep- 
less night, and hated the fellow for getting my 
chance.” 

Captain Rayburn drew a long breath, wihle his 


66 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


fingers relaxed for an instant; and it was Celia’s 
hand which tightened over his. 

“But I got past that,” he said, quietly. “It 
came to me all at once that Garretson and the other 
fellows in active service weren’t the only ones with 
chances before them. I had mine — a different 
commission from the one I had coveted, to be sure, 
but a broader one, with infinite possibilities, and 
no fear of missing further promotion if I earned it.” 

There was a little stillness after that. When 
the captain looked down at Celia again he found 
her eyes full of pity, but this time it was not pity 
for herself. He comprehended instantly. 

“No, I don’t need it, dear,” he said, very gently. 
“I’ve learned some things already in the hospital 
tent I wouldn’t have missed for a year’s pay. And 
you, who are to be only temporarily on the sick- 
leave list, you don’t need to mind that the little 
second lieutenant ” 

But the second lieutenant was rushing into the 
room, bearing on a plate a great puffy, round loaf, 
brown and spicy. 

“Look,” she cried, “at my steamed brown bread! 
I’ve tried it four times and slumped it every time. 
Now Fieldsy has shown me what was the matter 
— I hadn’t flour enough. Fieldsy is a dear-- 
and so are you!” 

She plunged at Celia, brown bread and all, and 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


67 


kissed the top of her head, tweaked a lock of Cap- 
tain Rayburn’s thick hair, and was flying away 
when Celia spoke. “You’re the biggest dear of 
anybody,” she said, with a smile. 

* * * * * * * 

It was getting up a party in a hurry, but some- 
how the thing was accomplished. Whether Lanse 
remembered his own birthday at all was a question. 
When he came home at six o’clock on that day, 
Charlotte told him that she had special reasons for 
seeing him in his best. 

“Why, you’re all dressed up yourself,” he 
observed. “What’s up?” 

“Doctor Forester’s coming out to hear us play,” 
was all she would tell him, and Lanse groaned over 
the fact that the little orchestra was so out of 
practice. - **’■ 

When the guests arrived, they found the man 
with the birthday anxiously looking over scores. 
He greeted them with enthusiasm. 

“Doctor Forester, this is good of you, if we can’t 
play worth a copper cent. Miss Atkinson! Well 
this is a surprise — a delightful one! Miss Caro- 
lyn, how goes school ? How are you, Norman ? 
You’ll find Just in a minute. Miss Houghton, 
now you and I can settle that little question we 
were discussing. Charlotte, you rogue, you and 
Uncle Ray are at the bottom of this! Ah, Doctor 


68 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


Churchill! This wouldn’t have been complete 
without our neighbour. Miss Atkinson, allow me 
to present Doctor Churchill.” 

Thus John Lansing Birch accepted at once and 
with his accustomed ease the role of host, and 
enjoyed himself immensely. Celia, watching him 
from her couch, said suddenly to Captain Rayburn, 
who sat beside her: 

“This is just what the family needed. If you 
hadn’t come we should probably have gone drudg- 
ing on all winter without realising what was the 
matter with us. No wonder poor Lanse appre- 
ciates it. He’s had a month of hard labour with- 
out an enlivening hour. And Charlotte — doesn’t 
she look like a fresh carnation to-night?” 

“ Very much,” agreed the captain, with 
approving eyes on his younger niece, who wore her 
best frock of French gray, a tint which set off her 
warm colouring to advantage. Celia had thrust 
several of Captain Rayburn’s scarlet carnations 
into her sister’s belt, with a result gratifying to 
more than one pair of eyes. 

“Still,” remarked the captain, his glance re- 
turning to Celia, “I’m not sure that I can say 
whether a fresh carnation is to be preferred to a 
newly picked rose. That pale pink gown you are 
wearing is certainly a joy to the eye.” 

Celia blushed under his admiring glance. 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


69 


There could be no question that she was very 
lovely, if a trifle frail in appearance from her 
month’s quiet, and it was comforting to be assured 
that she was not looking like a “limp water-lily” 
to-night. 

“When are we to hear the orchestra?” cried 
Doctor Forester, after an hour of lively talk, a 
game or two, and some remarkable puzzles con- 
tributed by Just. The distinguished gentleman 
from the city was enjoying himself immensely, for 
he was accustomed to social functions of a far 
more elaborate and formal sort, and liked noth- 
ing better than to join in a frolic with the younger 
people when such rare opportunities presented. 

“Of course we’re horribly out of practice and 
all that,” explained Lanse, distributing scores, and 
helping to prop up Celia so that she might try 
to play, “but since you insist we’ll give you all 
you’ll want in a very few minutes. Here’s your 
flute, Uncle Ray. If you’ll play along with Celia 
it will help out.” 

It was not so bad, after all. Lanse had chosen 
the most familiar of the old music, everybody did 
his and her best, and Captain Rayburn’s flute, ex- 
quisitely played, did indeed “help out.” 

Celia, her cheeks very pink, worked away until 
Doctor Churchill gently took her violin from her, 
but after that the music still went very well. 


70 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


“Good! good!” applauded Doctor Forester. 
“Churchill, you’re in luck to live next door to this 
sort of thing.” 

“Now that I know what I live next door to,” 
remarked the younger physician, “I shall know 
what to prescribe for the entire family on winter 
evenings.” 

There could be no question that Doctor Church- 
ill also was enjoying the evening. Helping Char- 
lotte and the boys serve the sandwiches and 
chocolate, which appeared presently — the choco- 
late being made by Mrs. Fields in the kitchen — 
he said to the girl: 

“I haven’t had such a good time since I came 
away from my old home.” 

“It was so nice of Fieldsy to make the choco- 
late,” Charlotte replied, somewhat irrelevantly. 
Then as the doctor looked quickly at her and 
laughed, she flushed. “Oh, I don’t call her that 
to her face!” she said, hurriedly. 

“I don’t think she would mind. That’s what 
Andy Churchill called her, and calls her yet, when 
he forgets her newly acquired dignity as a doctor’s 
housekeeper. I’m mighty glad Fieldsy can be of 
service to you. You’ve won her heart completely 
and I assure you that’s a bigger triumph than you 
realise.” 

“She’s the nicest neighbour we ever had,” said 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


7i 


Charlotte, gaily. The doctor paused, delayed 
them both a moment while he rearranged a pile of 
spoons and forks upon his tray, and said : 

“If you talk of neighbours, Miss Charlotte, 
there’s a certain homesick young doctor who ap- 
preciates having neighbours, too.” 

Charlotte answered as lightly as he had spoken: 
“With Mrs. Fields in the kitchen and you in here 
with a tray full of hospitality, I’m sure you seem 
very much like one of our oldest neighbours.” 

“Thank you!” he answered, with such a glad 
little ring in his voice that Charlotte could not be 
sorry for the impulsive speech. But she found her- 
self wondering more than once during the evening 
what he had meant by calling himself “homesick.” 

“See here, Mrs. Fields,” called Jeff, hurrying 
out for fresh supplies, “this is the best chocolate 
ever brewed ! Doctor Forester wants another cup, 
and all the fellows looked sort of wistful when they 
heard him ask for it. May everybody have another 
cup ?” 

“Well, I must say, Mr. Jefferson!” said Mrs. 
Fields, in astonishment. “I thought Miss Char- 
lotte was going clean crazy when she would have 
three double-boilers made. But it seems she knew 
her friends’ appetites. Don’t you know it ain’t 
considered proper to pass more than one cup — 
light refreshments like these?” 


72 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


“Oh, this isn’t any of your afternoon-tea affairs, 
I can tell you that!” declared Jeff, watching with 
pleasure the filling of the tall blue-and-white 
chocolate pot. “People know they are going to 
get something good when they come here. I 
warned the fellows not to eat too much supper be- 
fore they came. Any more of those chicken 
sandwiches ?” 

“For the land’s sake, Mr. Jeff!” cried Mrs. 
Fields. 

“What’s the matter, Jeffy?” asked Charlotte, 
coming out. Doctor Churchill was behind her, 
bearing an empty salad bowl. 

“I want more sandwiches,” demanded Jeff. 

“Everybody fall to quick and make them,” 
commanded Charlotte. “Norman Carter and 
Just have had seven apiece. That makes them 
go fast.” 

“Well, I never!” breathed the housekeeper 
once more. But Charlotte was slicing the bread 
with a rapid hand. The doctor, laughing, under- 
took to butter the slices, and Jeff would have 
spread on the chicken if Mrs. Fields had not taken 
the knife from his hand. 

Ten minutes later Jeff was able to announce 
that everybody seemed to be satisfied. 

“That’s a mercy,” said Mrs. Fields, handing 
him a tray full of pink and white ices, Captain 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


73 


Rayburn’s contribution to the festivities. “You’d 
have to give ’em sody-crackers now if they wasn’t. 
Carry that careful, and tell Miss Charlotte to send 
out for the cake. I’ll light the candles.” 

Doctor Churchill came out alone for the cake. 
It stood ready upon the table, Charlotte’s greatest 
success — a big, old-fashioned orange “layer-cake,” 
with pale yellow icing, twenty-three pale yellow 
candles surrounding it in a flaming circle, and one 
great yellow Marechal Niel rose in the centre. 

“Whew-w, that’s a beauty!” cried Doctor 
Churchill. “Did you make it, Fieldsy ?” 

“Indeed I didn’t,” denied Mrs. Fields, with 
great satisfaction. “Miss Charlotte made it 
herself, and I didn’t know but she’d go crazy over 
it, first for fear it wouldn’t turn out right, and 
then for joy because it had.” 

The doctor handed it about with a face so 
beaming that Doctor Forester leaned back in his 
chair and regarded his young colleague quizzically. 

“You make this cake, Churchill ?” he asked. 

The doctor laughed. “It was joy enough to 
bring it in,” he said. 

“Who did make it ?” demanded Forester. “It 
was no caterer, I know.” 

Charlotte attempted to escape quietly from the 
room, but Lanse barred the way. “Here she is,” 
he said, and turned his sister about and made her 


74 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


face the company. A friendly round of applause 
greeted her, mingled with exclamations of sur- 
prise. They all knew Charlotte, or thought they 
did. To most of them this was a new and un- 
looked-for accomplishment. 

“It’s not half so good as the sort Celia makes,” 
murmured Charlotte, and would hear no more of 
the cake. But Celia, in her corner, said softly to 
Doctor Forester: 

“It’s going to be worth while, my knee, for the 
training Charlotte is getting. She’ll be a perfect 
little housekeeper before I’m about again.” 

“It’s going to be worth while in another way 
too,” returned her friend, with an appreciative 
glance at the face which always reminded him of 
her mother’s, it was so serenely sweet and full of 
character. 

“It is ? How ?” she asked, eagerly, for his tone 
was emphatic. 

“I have few patients on my list who learn so 
soon to bear this sort of thing as quietly as you are 
bearing it,” he said. “Don’t think that doesn’t 
count.” Then he rose to go. 

Celia hardly heard the leave-takings, her mind 
was so happily busy with this bit of rare praise from 
one whose respect was well worth earning. And 
half an hour afterward, as Lanse stooped to gather 
her up and carry her up-stairs to bed, she looked 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


75 

back at Captain Rayburn, who still sat beside her 
couch, and said, with softly shining eyes: 

“The colonel almost wouldn’t be the second 
lieutenant if he could, Uncle Ray.” 

Lanse, lifting his sister in his strong arms, re- 
marked, “I should say not. Why should he ?” 

Celia and Captain Rayburn, laughing, ex- 
changed a sympathetic, comprehending glance. 


CHAPTER VI 


HREE times Jefferson Birch knocked on 



A his sister Charlotte’s door. Then he 
turned the knob. The door would not open. 
“ Fiddle !” he called, softly, but got no reply. 

“You’re not asleep, I know,” he said, firmly, 
at the keyhole. “I can see a light from outside, 
if you have got it all plugged up here. Let me in. 
I’ve some important news for you.” 

Charlotte’s lock turned and she threw the door 
open. “Well, come in,” she said. “I didn’t 
mean anybody to know, but I’m dying to tell some- 
body, and I can trust you. ” 

“Of course!” affirmed Jeff, entering with an 
air of curiosity. “What’s doing ? Painting ?” 

The table by the window was strewn with artist’s 
materials, drawings, sheets of water-colour paper 
and tumblers of coloured water. In the midst of 
this confusion lay one piece of nearly finished 
work — the interior of an unfurnished room, show- 
ing wall decoration and nothing more. The 
colouring caught Jeff’s eye. 

“That’s stunning!” he commented, catching 
up the board upon which the colour drawing was 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


77 


stretched. “What’s it for ? Going to put in some 
furniture?” 

Charlotte laughed. “No, I’m not going to put 
in any furniture,” she said. “This is just to show 
a scheme for decorating a den — a man’s den. 
Do you really like it ?” 

“It’s great!” Jeff stood the board up against 
the wall and backed away, studying it with in- 
terest. “Those dull reds and blues will show off 
his guns and pictures and things in fine shape. 
How did you ever think it up ?” 

Charlotte brought out some sheets of wall-paper, 
as Jeff thought, but he saw at once that they were 
hand-work. They represented in full-size detail 
the paper used upon the den walls. Jeff studied 
them with interest. 

“So this is where you are evenings, after you 
slip away. You’re sitting up late, too. See here, 
this won’t do!” 

“Oh, yes, it will. Don’t try to stop me, Jeff. 
I’m not up late, really I’m not — only once in 
a while.” 

“I thought people couldn’t paint by artificial 
light.” 

“They can when they get used to the difference 
it makes. But I do only the drudgery, evenings — 
outlines and solid filling in and that sort of 
thing.” 


78 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


“ Going to show this to somebody ?” 

“Oh, don’t talk about it!” said Charlotte, 
breathlessly. “If I can get my courage up. You 
know Mr. Murdock, with that decorating house 
where the Deckers had their work done ? Well, 
some day I’m going to show him. But I’m so 
frightened at my own audacity!” 

“If he doesn’t like this, he’s a fool!” declared 
Jeff, vigorously, and although Charlotte laughed 
she felt the encouragement of his boyish approval. 
Putting away her work, she suddenly remembered 
the excuse her brother had given for forcing his 
way into her room. 

“You said you had important news for me. 
Did you mean it, or was that only to get in ?” 

“Oh,” said Jeff sitting down suddenly and 
looking up at her, his face growing grave. “You 
put it out of my head when I came in. I met the 
doctor just now. He’d been to see Annie Donohue. 
She’s worse.” 

Charlotte dropped her work instantly. “Worse ?” 
she said, all the brightness flying from her face. 
“Why, I was in yesterday, and she seemed much 
better. Jeff, I must go down there this minute.” 

“ It’s after ten — you can’t. Wait till morning. ” 

“Oh, no!” The girl was making ready as she 
spoke. “You’ll go with me. Think of the baby. 
There’ll be a houseful of women, all wailing, if 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


79 


anything goes wrong with Annie. They did it 
before, when they thought she wasn’t doing well. 
The baby was so frightened. She knows me. Of 
course I must go. Think what mother would do 
for Annie — after all the years Annie was such a 
faithful maid.” 

That brought Jeff round at once. In ten 
minutes he and Charlotte had quietly left the 
house. A rapid walk through the crisp January 
night brought them to the poorer quarter of the 
town and the Donohue cottage. A woman with 
a shawl over her head met them just outside. 

“Annie’s gone,” she said, at sight of Charlotte. 
“Took a turn for the worse an hour ago. I never 
thought she’d get well, she’s had too hard a life 
with that brute of a man of hers.” 

Charlotte stood still on the door-step when the 
woman had gone on. She was thinking hard. 
Jeff remained quiet beside her. Charlotte had 
known more of Annie than he; Annie had been 
Charlotte’s nurse. 

All at once Charlotte turned and laid a hand 
on his arm. “Jeff,” she said, very softly and 
close to his ear, “we must take little Ellen home 
with us to-night.” 

“What!” 

“Yes, we must. She’s such a shy little thing. 
Every time I’ve been here I’ve found her fright- 


8o 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


ened half to death. It worried Annie dread- 
fully.” 

“Well — but, Charlotte — some of these women 
can take care of her — Annie’s friends.” 

“They are not Annie’s friends; they’re just her 
neighbours. Not Annie’s kind at all. They’re 
good-hearted enough, but it distressed Annie all 
the time to have any of them take care of Ellen. 
They give her all sorts of things to eat. She’s 
only a baby. She was half-sick when I was here 
Thursday. Oh, don’t make a fuss, Jeff! Please, 
dear!” 

“But you don’t know anything about babies.” 

“I know enough not to give them pork and 
cabbage. I can put the little thing to sleep in 
Just’s crib. It’s up in the attic. You can get 
it down. Jeff, we must!” 

But Jeff still held her firmly by the arm. “Girl, 
you’re crazy! If you once take her, you’ve got her 
on your hands. Annie has no relations. You 
told me that yourself. The child’ll have to go to 
an asylum. It’s a good thing that husband of hers 
is dead. If he wasn’t, you’d have some cause to 
be worried.” 

“Jeff,” said Charlotte, pleadingly, “you must 
let me do what I think is right. I couldn’t sleep, 
thinking of little Ellen to-night. Besides, when 
Annie was worrying about her Thursday, I as 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


81 


much as promised we’d see that no harm came 
to the baby.” 

Jeff relaxed his hold. “I never saw such a 
girl!” he grumbled. “As if you hadn’t things 
enough on your shoulders already, without adopt- 
ing other people’s kids!” 

Dr. Andrew Churchill opened the door which 
led from the room of one of his patients into the 
small, slenderly furnished living-room of the tiny 
house which had been her home. It was her home 
no longer. Doctor Churchill had just lost his 
first patient in private practice. 

In the room were several women, gathered about 
a baby not yet two years old. Over the child 
a subdued but excited discussion was being 
held, as to who should take home and, for the 
present, care for poor Annie Donohue’s orphan 
baby. 

Doctor Churchill closed the door behind him and 
stood for a moment, looking down at the baby, 
a pretty little girl with a pair of big frightened blue 
eyes. 

“Well, I guess I’ll have to be the one,” said the 
youngest woman of the company, with a sigh. 
“You’re all worse fixed than I am, and I guess we 
can make room for her somehow, till it’s decided 
what to do with her. Poor Mis’ Donohue’s child 


82 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


has got to stay somewhere to-night besides here, 
that I do say.” 

“Well, that’s kind of you, Mary, and we’ll all 
lend a hand to help you out. I’ll bring over some 
extra milk I can spare and ” 

A sudden draft of January air made everybody 
turn. A girlish figure, in a big dark cape with a 
scarlet lining which seemed to reflect the colour 
from a face brilliant with frost-bloom, stood in the 
outer door. The next instant Charlotte Birch, 
closing the door softly behind her, had crossed 
the room and was addressing the women, in low 
quick tones. The doctor she did not seem to notice. 

“I’ve come for the baby,” she said, with a 
gentle imperiousness. “I’ve just heard about 
poor Annie. Of course we are the ones to see 
to little Ellen. If mother were here she would 
insist upon it. Where are her wraps, please ? And 
has one of you an extra shawl she can lend me ? 
It’s a sharp night.” 

As she spoke, Charlotte knelt before the child 
and held out her arms. Baby Ellen stared at her 
for an instant, then seemed to recognise a friend 
and lifted two little arms, her tiny lips quivering. 
Charlotte drew her gently up, and rising, walked 
away across the room with her, the small golden 
head nestling in her neck. The women looked 
after her rather resentfully. 



Courtesy of “ The Youth’s Companion.” 

“ Charlotte knelt before the child and held out her arms.” 








THE SECOND VIOLIN 


83 


“I suppose the child wouldn’t be sufferin’ with 
such as us,” said one, “if we ain’t got no silk 
quilts to put over her.” 

“Neither have I,” said Charlotte, with a smile, 
as she caught the words. “ But I’m so fond of her. 
Annie was my nurse, you know.” 

“May I carry her home for you?” asked the 
doctor, at her elbow. 

“Jeff is here,” she answered. 

But it was the doctor who carried the baby, 
after all, for she cried at sight of Jeff. She was 
ready to cry at sight of any strange face, poor 
little frightened child! But Doctor Churchill held 
her so tenderly and spoke so soothingly that she 
grew quiet at once. 

It was a silent walk, and it was only as they 
reached the house that the doctor said softly to 
Charlotte, “If you need advice or help, don’t 
hesitate to call on Mrs. Fields. She’s a wise 
woman, and her heart is warm, you know.” 

“Yes, I know, thank you! And thank you, 
doctor, for — not scolding me about this!” 

“Scold you ?” he said, as Charlotte took the baby 
from him at the door. “Why should I do that ?” 

“Jeff did, and I didn’t dare tell Lanse.” 

“If you hadn’t brought the baby home,” whis- 
pered the doctor, “I should have.” And Char- 
lotte, looking quickly up at him as Jeff opened the 


8 4 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


door and the light streamed out upon them, sur- 
prised upon his face, as his eyes rested upon the 
baby’s pink cheek, an expression which could 
hardly have been more tender if he had been 
Ellen’s father. 

“Now, Jeffy, get the crib down, please, as softly 
as you can,” begged Charlotte, when she had laid 
the baby on her own white bed and noiselessly 
closed the doOr. Jeff tried hard to do her bidding, 
but the crib did not get downstairs without a few 
scrapings and bumpings, which made Charlotte 
hold her breath lest they rouse a sleeping house- 
hold. 

“Now go down and warm some milk for her 
in the blue basin. Don’t get it hot — just luke- 
warm. Put the tiniest pinch of sugar in it.” 

“You seem to know a lot about babies,” Jeff 
murmured, pausing an instant to watch his sister 
gently pulling off* the baby’s clothes. 

“I do. Didn’t I have the care of you?” an- 
swered Charlotte, with a mischievous smile. 

“Two years younger than yourself? Oh, of 
course, I forgot that,” and Jeff crept away down- 
stairs after the milk. It took him some time, and 
when he came tiptoeing back he found the baby 
in her little coarse flannel nightgown, her round 
blue eyes wide-awake again. 

“She seems to accept you for a mother all right,” 


THE SECOND VIOLIN . 85 


he commented, as Charlotte held the cup to the 
baby’s lips, cuddling her in a blanket meanwhile. 
But the girl’s eyes filled at this, remembering poor 
Annie, and JefF added hastily, “ What’ll happen if 
she wakes up and cries in the night ? Babies 
usually do, don’t they?” 

“ Annie has always said Ellen didn’t, much, and 
she’s getting to sleep so late I hope she won’t to- 
night. I don’t feel equal to telling the others 
what I’ve done till morning,” and Charlotte smiled 
rather faintly. Now that she had the baby at 
home she was beginning to wonder what Lanse 
and Celia would say. 

“Never mind. I’ll stand by you. You’re all 
right, whatever you do — if I did think you were 
rather off your head at first,” promised Jeff, 
sturdily. He was never known to fail Charlotte 
in an emergency. 

Whether it was the strange surroundings or 
something wrong about the last meal of the day 
cannot be stated, but Baby Ellen did wake up. 
It was at three o’clock in the morning that Char- 
lotte, who, excited by the strangeness of the sit- 
uation, had but just fallen asleep, was roused by 
a small wail. 

The baby seemed not to know her in the trailing 
blue kimono, with her two long curly braids 
swinging over her shoulders, and in spite of all 


86 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


that Charlotte could do, the infantile anguish of 
spirit soon filled the house. 

Charlotte walked the floor with her, alternately 
murmuring consolation and singing the lullabies 
of her own childhood; but the uproar continued. 
It is astonishing what an amount of disturbance 
one small pair of lungs can produce. It was not 
long before the anxious nurse, listening with both 
ears for evidences that the family were aroused, 
heard the tap of Celia’s crutches, which the invalid 
had just learned to use. And almost at the same 
moment Lanse’s door opened and shut with a 
bang. 

“Here they come!” murmured Charlotte, trying 
distractedly to hush the baby by means which 
were never known to have that effect upon a 
startled infant in a strange house. 

Her door swung open. Celia stood on the 
threshold, her eyes wide with alarm. Lanse, 
lightly costumed in pink-and-white pajamas, 
gazed over her shoulder. 

“Charlotte Birch!” cried Celia, and words 
failed her. But Lanse was ready of speech. 

“What the dickens does this mean?” he in- 
quired, wrathfully. “Have we become an or- 
phanage ? I thought I heard singular sounds just 
after I got to bed. Is there any good reason why 
the family shouldn’t be informed of what strange 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


87 


intentions you may have in your brain before you 
carry them out ? Whose youngster is it, and what 
are you doing with it here ?” , 

Charlotte’s lips were seen to move, but the 
baby’s fright had received such an accession from 
the appearance of two more unknown beings in 
the room that nothing could be distinguished. 
What Charlotte said was, “ Please go away! I’ll 
tell you in the morning.” But the visitors, failing 
to catch the appeal, not only did not go away, but 
moved nearer. 

“Why, it’s Annie Donohue’s baby!” cried 
Celia, and shrieked the information into Lanse’s 
ear. His expression of disfavour relaxed a degree, 
but he still looked preternaturally severe. Celia 
hobbled over to the baby, and sitting down in a 
rocking-chair, held out her arms. But Charlotte 
shook her head and motioned imperatively toward 
the door. 

At this instant Jeff, in a red bathrobe, appeared 
in the doorway, grasped the situation, nodded 
assurance to Charlotte, and hauled his elder 
brother across the hall into his own room, where 
he closed the door and explained in a few terse 
sentences : 

“Annie died last night — to-night. We heard 
of it late, and Charlotte thought she wouldn’t dis- 
turb anybody. The doctor was there. He carried 


88 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


the baby home. We couldn’t leave her there. 
She was scared to death. She knows Fiddle, and 
she’ll grow quiet now if you people don’t stand 
round and insist on explanations being roared at 
you.” 

“But we can’t keep a baby here,” began Lanse, 
who had come home late, unusually tired, and 
was feeling the customary masculine displeasure 
at having his hard-earned rest broken — a sensation 
which at the moment took precedence over any 
more humanitarian emotions. 

“We don’t have to settle that to-night, do we ?” 
demanded Jeff, with scorn. “Hasn’t the poor 
girl got enough on her hands without having you 
scowl at her for trying to do the good Samaritan 
act — at three o’clock in the morning?” 

Jeff next turned his attention to Celia. He 
went into Charlotte’s room, picked up his elder 
sister without saying “ by your leave, ” and carried 
her off to her own bed. 

“But, Jeff, I could help Charlotte,” Celia 
remonstrated. “The poor baby may be sick.” 

“Don’t believe it. She’s simply scared stiff 
at kimonos and pajamas and bathrobes stalk- 
ing round her in a strange house. Charlotte can 
cool her down if anybody can. If she can’t, I’ll 
call the doctor. Now go to sleep. Charlotte and 
I will man the ship to-night, and in the morning 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


89 


you can go to work making duds for the baby. 
It didn’t have anything to wear round it but a 
summer cape and Mrs. O’Neill’s plaid shawl.” 

This artful allusion touched Celia’s tender 
heart and set her mind at work, as Jeff had meant 
it should; so putting out her light, he slipped away 
to Charlotte, exulting in having so promptly fixed 
things for her. 

But Charlotte met him with anxious eyes. The 
baby was still screaming. 

“‘See how she stiffens every now and then, and 
holds her breath till I think she’ll never breathe 
again!” she called in his ear. “I do really think 
you’d better call Mrs. Fields. You can wake her 
with a knock on her window. She sleeps in the 
little wing down-stairs.” 

As he hurried down the hall, the door of Captain 
Rayburn’s room opened, and Jeff met the quiet 
question, “What’s up, lad?” 

He stopped an instant to explain, encountered 
prompt sympathy, and laid a hasty injunction upon 
his uncle not to attempt to assist Charlotte in her 
dilemma. That gentleman hobbled back to bed, 
smiling tenderly to himself in the dark — why, if 
he had seen him, Jeff never would have been able 
to guess, 


CHAPTER VII 


Y'VE got a sewing-machine that I know the 
kinks of,” said Mrs. Fields to Celia and 
Charlotte and the baby, who regarded her 
with interest from the couch, where they were 
grouped. “The doctor's going to be away all 
day to-morrow, and if you'll all come over, we can 
get through a lot of little clothes for the baby. 
Land knows she ain’t anyway fixed for going out- 
doors in all kinds of weather, the way the doctor 
wants her to.” 

This was so true that it carried weight in spite 
of the difficulties in the way. So before he went 
off to school on a certain February morning, Jeff 
had carried Celia across to Mrs. Field's sitting- 
room, and by ten o'clock three busy people were 
at work. Captain Rayburn had begged to be of 
the party, and although Mrs. Fields received with 
skepticism his declaration that he could do various 
sorts of sewing with a sufficient degree of skill, she 
allowed him to come, on condition that he look 
after the baby. 

“Well, for the land's sake!” cried the fore- 
woman of the sewing brigade, as she opened the 


90 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


9i 


big bundle Captain Rayburn had brought with 
him. “ I should say you haven’t left much for us 
to do!” 

The captain regarded with complacency the 
finished garments she was holding up. 

“Yes,” said he, “I telephoned the big chil- 
dren’s supply shop to send me what Miss Ellen 
would need for out-of-doors. It seemed a pity 
to have her stay in another day, waiting to be 
sewed up. Aren’t they right ? I thought the 
making of her indoor clothes would be enough.” 

Celia and Charlotte were exclaiming with de- 
light over the pretty, wadded white coat which 
Mrs. Fields held aloft. There was a little furry 
hood to match, mittens, and a pair of leggings of 
the sort desirable for small travellers. 

“If he hasn’t remembered everything!” cried 
Mrs. Fields, when this last article of apparel came 
to view. “Well, sir, I won’t say you haven’t 
saved us quite a chore. I’ve got the little flannel 
petticoats all cut out. Doctor Churchill bought 
flannel enough to keep her covered from now till 
she’s five years old. Talk about economy — when 
a man goes shopping!” 

Mrs. Fields plunged into business with a will. 
The sewing-machine hummed ceaselessly. Celia, 
with rapid, skilful fingers, kept pace with her 
in basting and putting together, and Charlotte — 


92 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


well, Charlotte did her best. Meanwhile Cap- 
tain Rayburn and the baby explored together 
mysterious realms of pockets and picture-books. 

“For the land’s sake, Miss Charlotte!” cried 
Mrs. Fields, suddenly, in the middle of the morn- 
ing. “If you ain’t made five left sleeves and 
only one right!” 

Charlotte looked up, crimsoning. “How could 
I have done it ?” 

“Easy enough.” Mrs. Field’s expression soft- 
ened instantly at sight of the girl’s dismay. 
“I’ve done it a good many times. Something 
about it — sleeves act bewitched. They seem bound 
to hang together and be all one kind or all the 
other, anything but pairs.” 

“Why don’t you rest a little, and take baby out- 
doors in her new coat?” Celia suggested. 
“Sewing is such wearisome work, if one isn’t used 
to it.” 

So Charlotte and her charge gladly went out. A 
neighbour had lent an old baby sled, and in it Miss 
Ellen Donohue, snuggled to the chin in the warm- 
est of garments and wrappings, took her first air- 
ing since the night, a week before, when she had 
been brought home in Doctor Churchill’s arms. 

She was a shy but happy baby, and had already 
won all hearts. Nobody was willing to begin the 
steps necessary to place her in any of the insti- 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


93 


tutions designed for cases like hers. Charlotte, 
indeed, would not hear of it; and even the prac- 
tical John Lansing, who had learned to figure the 
family finances pretty closely since he himself 
had become the wage-earner, succumbed to the 
touch of baby fingers on his face and the glance of 
a pair of eyes like forget-me-nots. 

As for Captain Rayburn, he was the baby’s 
devoted slave at all times, his most jealous rival 
being Dr. Andrew Churchill, who was constantly 
inventing excuses for coming in for a frolic with 
Baby Ellen. 

“If the doctor could look in on us now,” ob- 
served Mrs. Fields, suddenly, in the middle of the 
afternoon, when Charlotte was again bravely try- 
ing to distinguish herself at tasks in which she 
was by no means an adept, “he’d be put out with 
me for having this party a day when he was away. 
He sets great store by anything that looks like a 
lot of people at home.” 

“Is he one of a large family ?” Celia asked. 

“He was two years ago. Since then he’s 
lost a brother and a sister and his mother. His 
father died five years ago. He has a married 
brother in Japan, and an unmarried one in South 
Africa. There ain’t anybody in the old home 
now. It broke up when his mother died, two 
years ago. He hasn’t got over that — not a bit. 


94 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


She was going to come and live with him here. It 
was a town where she used to visit a good deal, 
and since he couldn’t settle near the old home, be- 
cause it wasn’t a good field for young doctors, she 
was willing to come here with him. That’s why 
he’s here now, though I suppose it don’t begin to be 
as advantageous a place for him as it would be in 
the city itself. He thought a terrible lot of his 
mother, Andy did. Seems as if he wanted to 
please her now as much as ever. And he has 
some pretty homesick times, now and then, though 
he doesn’t show it much.” 

It was the first time the doctor’s housekeeper 
had been so communicative, and her three hearers 
listened with deep interest, although they asked 
few questions, made only one or two kindly com- 
ments, and did not express half the sympathy 
they felt. Only Captain Rayburn, thoughtfully 
staring out of the window, gave voice to a sentf 
ment for which both his nieces, although they 
said nothing in reply, inwardly thanked him. 

“Doctor Churchill is a rare sort of fellow,” he 
said. “ Doctor Forester considers him most prom- 
ising, I know. But better than that, he is one 
whose personality alone will always be the strong- 
est part of his influence over his patients, winning 
them from despair to courage — how, they can’t 
tell. And the man who can add to the sum total 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


95 

of the courage of the human race has done for it 
what it very much needs. ,, 

A few minutes after this little speeech the sub- 
ject of it quite unexpectedly came dashing in, 
bringing with him a great breath of February air. 
He stopped in astonishment upon the threshold. 

“If this isn’t the unkindest trick I ever heard 
of!” he cried, his brilliant eyes flashing from one 
to another. “I suppose that arch-traitor of a 
Fieldsy planned to have you all safely away before 
I came home. I’m thankful I got here two hours 
before she expected me. See here, you’ve got to 
make this up to me somehow. ” 

“Sit down!” invited Captain Rayburn. “You 
may hem steadily for two hours on flannel petti- 
coats. If that won’t make it up to you I don’t 
know what will.” 

“No, it won’t,” retorted the doctor. “Sewing’s 
all right in its way, but I’ve just put up my needle- 
case, thank you, and no more stitching for me to- 
day. I want — a lark! I want to go skating. 
Who’ll go with me ?” 

“By the process of elimination I should say you 
would soon get at the answer to that,” remarked 
the captain. “There seems to be just one candi- 
date for active service in this company — un- 
less Mrs. Fields — I’ve no doubt now that Mrs. 
Fields- ” 


9 6 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


“Will you go?” Doctor Churchill turned to 
Mrs. Fields. She glanced up into his laughing 
eyes. 

“Run along and don’t bother me,” she said to 
him. “Take that child there. She’s about got 
her stent done, I guess.” 

Doctor Churchill looked at the curly black head 
bent closely over the last of the little sleeves. 

“You don’t deceive me, Miss Charlotte,” said 
he. “You’re not as wedded to that task as you 
look. Please come with me. There’s time for a 
magnificent hour before you have to put the kettle 
on. Miss Birch, I wish we could take you, too. 
Next winter — well, that knee is doing so well I 
dare to promise you all the skating you want.” 

Celia looked up at him, smiling, but her eyes 
were wistful. 

“Doctor,” cried Captain Rayburn, “telephone 
to the stables for a comfortable old horse and 
sleigh, will you? Celia, girl, we’ll go, too.” 

“And I’ll look after Ellen,” said Mrs. Fields, 
before anybody could mention the baby. “Go 
on, all of you.” 

“May we all come back to supper with you ?” 
asked Doctor Churchill, giving her a glance with 
which she was familiar of old. 

“If you’ll send for some oysters I’ll give you all 
a hot stew,” she said, and received such a chorus 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


97 

of applause that she mentally added several items 
to the treat. 

“Now I can enjoy my fun,” whispered Char- 
lotte to Celia, as she brought her sister’s wraps, 
and pulled on her own rough brown coat. “Such 
a jolly uncle, isn’t he ?” 

“The best in the world. Wear your white tarn, 
dear, and the white mittens. They look so well 
with your brown suit. Tie the white silk scarf 
about your neck — that’s it. Now run. I’m so 
afraid somebody will call the doctor out and spoil 
it all.” 

Charlotte ran, and found the doctor waiting 
impatiently, two pairs of skates on his arm. He 
hurried her away down the street. 

“We must get all there is of this,” he said. “I 
feel as if I could skate fifty miles and back again. 
Do you ?” 

“Indeed I do. I’ve wanted to get up and run 
round the block between every two stitches all 
day.” 

“They say the river is good for three miles up. 
That will give us just what we want — a sensation 
of running away from the earth and all its cares. 
And when we get back we’ll be ready for Fieldsy’s 
stew.” 

They found everybody on the river; Charlotte 
was busy nodding to her friends while the doctor 


9 8 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


put on her skates. In a few moments the two 
were flying up the course. 

“Oh, this is great !” exulted Doctor Churchill. 
“And this is the first time you've been on the 
ice this winter — in February!” 

“This is fine enough to make up. I do love it. 
It takes out all the puckers.” 

“Doesn't it? I thought you'd been cultivating 
puckers to-day the minute I saw you — or else I 
interpreted your mood by my own. Talk about 
puckers — and nerves! Miss Charlotte, I've done 
my first big operation in a certain line to-day. I 
mean, in a new line — an experiment. It was — 
a success.” 

She looked up at him, her face full of sympathy. 
“Oh, I'm so glad!” she said. 

“Are you? Thank you! I wanted somebody 
to be glad — and I hadn't anybody. I had to tell 
you. It’s too soon to be absolutely sure, but it 
promises so well I'm daring to be happy. It's 
the sort of operation in which the worst danger is 
practically over if the patient gets through the 
operation itself. She's rallied beautifully. And 
whatever happens, I've proved my point — that 
the experiment is feasible. Some of the men 
doubted that — all thought it a big risk. But I 
had to take it, and now — Ah, come on, Miss 
Charlotte! Let's fly!” 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


99 


Away they went, faster and faster — long, swing- 
ing strokes in perfect unison; two accomplished 
skaters with one object in view; working off 
healthy young spirits at a tension. They did not 
talk; they saved their breath; they went like the 
wind itself. 

At the farthest extremitv of the smooth ice, 
which ended at a little frost-bound waterfall, they 
came to a stop. Churchill looked down at a face 
like a rose, black eyes that were all alight, and lips 
that smiled with the fresh happiness of the fine 
sport. 

“I've skated at Copenhagen and at St. Peters- 
burg,” he said gaily, “to say nothing of Fresh 
Pond and Lake Superior and other such home 
grounds. But it’s safe to say I never enjoyed a 
mile of them like that last one. You— you were 
really glad, weren’t you, that it went so well with 
me to-day?” 

“How could I help it, Doctor Churchill?” she 
answered, earnestly. Ever since coming out she 
had been remembering the little revelation his 
housekeeper had made of his life, and it had 
touched her deeply to know why he had come to 
settle in the suburban town instead of in the much 
more promising city field — a question which had 
occured to her many times since she had known 

him. 

Lff f 


xoo 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


“I always expected,” he went on, in a more 
quiet way, “to be able to come home and tell my 
mother about my first triumphs. She would have 
been so proud and happy over the smallest thing. 
Her father was a distinguished surgeon — March- 
mont of Baltimore. He died only four years ago 
— his books are an authority on certain subjects. 
My other grandfather was Dr. Andrew Churchill 
of Glasgow — an old-school physician and a good 
one. So you see I come honestly by my love for 
it all. And mother — how we used to talk it all 
over ” 

He stopped abruptly, with a tightening of the 
lips, and stood staring off over the frozen fields, 
his eyes growing sombre. Charlotte’s own eyes 
fell; her heart beat fast with sympathy. She 
laid the lightest of touches on his arm. 

“I know,” she said, softly. “Fieldsy told 
me — a little bit. I’m so sorry.” 

He drew a long breath and looked down at her, 
his eyes searching her face. “You are a little 
comrade,” he said, and his voice was low and 
moved. Then with a quick motion he seized her 
hands again and they were off*, back down the 
river. Not so fast as before, and silently, the two 
skaters covered the miles, and only as they came 
within sight of the crowd of people at the beginning 
of the course did Doctor Churchill speak. 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


IOI 


“This has been a fine hour, hasn’t it ?” he said. 
“Your face looks as if you had lost all the puckers. 
Have you ?” 

“Indeed I have! Haven’t you?” 

“It has done me a world of good. I was 
wrought up to a high pitch — now I’m cool again. 
I have to go back to the hospital as soon as supper 
is over. I shall stay all night.” 

/‘When you get back,” said Charlotte, “will 
you telephone me how the case is doing?” 

“May I?” he answered, eagerly. 

“Of course you may. I shall be anxious till 
I know.” 

“I have no business to add one smallest item 
of anxiety to your list of worries,” he admitted. 
“But it seems so good to me to have somebody 
care, just now. Fieldsy’s a dear soul — I couldn’t 
get on without her, but — Never mind, that’s 
enough of Andrew Churchill for one afternoon. 
Shall we make a big spurt to the finish ? Let’s 
show them what skating is — no little cutting of 
geometrical spider-webs in a forty-foot square!” 

They drew in with swift, graceful strokes, 
threaded their course through the crowd of skaters, 
and were soon on their way home. Captain 
Rayburn and Celia passed them, called back that 
it was a great day for invalids and children, and 
reached home just in time for the doctor to carry 


102 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


Celia into the little brick house. Charlotte ran 
to summon her three brothers, for it was after 
six o’clock. 

Never had an oyster stew such enthusiastic 
praise. Not an appetite was lacking, not a spoon 
flagged. Mrs. Fields, moved to lavish hospita- 
lity, in which she was upheld by the doctor, pro- 
duced a chicken pie, which had been originally 
intended for his dinner alone, and which she had 
at first designed, when she proposed the oysters, 
to keep over until the morrow. This was flanked 
by various dishes, impromptu but delectable, and 
followed by a round of winter fruit and sponge- 
cake — the latter the pride of the housekeeper’s 
heart, and dear to her master from old association. 

“ If you live like this all the time, Doctor Church- 
ill,” said John Lansing Birch, leaning back in 
his chair at last with the air of a man who asks no 
more of the gods, “I advise you to keep up a 
bachelor establishment to the end of your days.” 

“How would that suit you, Mrs. Fields?” 
asked the doctor, laughing. 

Mrs. Fields, from her place at the end of the 
table — they had insisted on having her sit down 
with them — answered deliberately: 

“As long as a man’s a man I suppose nothing 
on earth ever will make him feel so satisfied with 
himself and all creation as being set down in front 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


103 


of a lot of eatables. Now what gives me most 
peace of mind to-night is knowing that that little 
Ellen Donohue, asleep on my bed, has got enough 
new clothes, by this day’s work, to make a very 
good beginning of an outfit.” 

“Now, how do you old bachelors feel?” 
cried Celia, amidst laughter, and the party 
broke up. 

At ten o’clock that evening, when Charlotte 
had seen her sister comfortably in bed — for Celia 
still needed help in undressing — had tucked in 
Just and warned Jeff that it was bedtime, the 
telephone-bell rang. 

Lanse and Captain Rayburn sat reading in 
the living-room, where the telephone stood upon 
a desk, and Lanse, who was near it, moved lazily 
to answer it. But before he could lift the re- 
ceiver to his ear Charlotte had run into the room 
and was taking it from him, murmuring, “It’s 
for me — I’m sure it is.” 

“Well, I could have called you,” said Lanse, 
looking curiously at her as, with cheeks like pop- 
pies, she sat down at the desk and answered. 
With ears wide open, although he had again taken 
up the magazine he had laid down, he listened to 
Charlotte’s side of the conversation. It was 
brief, and no more remarkable than such per- 
formances are apt to be, but Lanse easily ap- 


104 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


preciated the fact that it was giving his sister 
immense satisfaction. 

“Hullo — yes — yes!” she called. “Yes — oh, is 
she? Yes — yes , Em so glad! Yes — of course you 
are. Pm so glad! Thank you. Yes — Good 
night!” Charlotte hung up the receiver and 
swung round from the desk, her face radiant, her 
eyes like stars. 

“Is she, indeed?” interrogated Lanse, lifting 
brotherly, penetrating eyes to her face. “En- 
gagement just announced ? When is she to be 
married ? Pm glad you’re glad — you might so 
easily have been jealous.” 

Charlotte laughed — a ripple of merriment 
which was contagious, for Captain Rayburn 
smiled over the evening paper, and Lanse him- 
self grinned cheerfully. 

“Mind telling us the occasion of such heartfelt 
joy?” he inquired. But Charlotte came up 
behind him, laid a warm velvet cheek against his 
for a moment, patted her uncle on the shoulder, 
cried, “Good night to you, gentlemen dear!” and 
ran away to bed. 


CHAPTER VIII 


HARLOTTE let little Ellen slide down from 
her lap, washed and brushed. 

“Now, Ellen, be a good girl,’’ she said as she 
set about picking up the various articles she had 
been using in the baby’s bath and dressing. “Char- 
lotte’s in a hurry.” 

The door-bell rang. Celia was in the kitchen, 
stirring up a pudding. It was April now, and 
Celia’s knee was so far mended that she could be 
about the house without her crutches, with certain 
restrictions as to standing, or using the knee in 
any way likely to strain it. 

It was Charlotte who did the running about, 
and it was she who started for the door now, after 
casting one hasty look around the bathroom to 
make sure that the baby could do herself no harm. 

Left to herself, Ellen investigated the resources 
of the bathroom and found them wanting. After 
she had thrown two towels, the soap and her own 
small tooth brush back into the tub from which 
she had lately emerged, and which Charlotte had 
not yet emptied, she found her means of entertain- 
ment at an end. The other toilet articles were all 


io6 THE SECOND VIOLIN 

beyond her reach. She gazed out of the window; 
there was nothing moving to be seen but a row of 
Mrs. Fields’s dish-towels waving in the wind. 

She turned to the door. Charlotte had meant 
to latch it, but it was a door with a peculiar trick of 
swinging slowly open an inch after it had appar- 
ently been closed, and it had not been latched. 
Ellen pushed one small hand into the crack and 
pulled it open. 

Charlotte was nowhere to be seen or heard. 
Across the hall was the door of her room, ajar; 
and since doors ajar have somehow a singular 
charm for babies, this one crossed to it and swung 
it wide. 

Here was richness. This was Charlotte’s work- 
shop. She slept in a smaller room adjoining, the 
baby in the crib by her side; and with that smaller 
room little Ellen was familiar, but not with this. 
The tiny feet travelled eagerly about, from one 
desirable object to another. And presently she 
remembered the big, porcelain-lined bath-tub. 
There was nothing Ellen liked so well as to throw 
things into that tub and see them splash. 

Two books crossed the hall and made the plunge, 
one after the other, into the soapy water. Ellen 
gurgled with delight. Two more journeys de- 
posited a shoe, a hair-brush and a small box, con- 
tents unknown, in the watery receptacle. Then 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


107 

Ellen made a discovery which filled her small soul 
with joy. 

Just two days before, Charlotte had completed 
the set of colour drawings which delineated the wall 
decoration of four rooms — a “den,” a dining-room 
and two bedrooms. They represented the work 
of the winter, pursued under the exceeding diffi- 
culties of managing a household, and, for the last 
three months, caring in part for a little child. 

But Charlotte had toiled faithfully, with the 
ardour of one who, having only a small portion of 
time to give to a beloved pursuit, works at it all 
the more zealously. And she had gone on from 
one room to another, in her designing, with the 
hope that if in one she failed to please those upon 
whom her success depended, some one of the 
series might appeal to them, and give her the 
desired place in their interest. 

It was her intention on this very day, after 
luncheon should be over and she should be free 
for a few hours, to make the much-dreaded, wholly- 
longed-for visit to the great manufacturing house 
where she was to show her wares. 

The drawings lay in a pile upon Charlotte's 
table, ready to be wrapped. Baby Ellen, spying 
the pile of drawings, with an edge or two of bril- 
liant colour showing, trotted gaily over to the table. 
She stood on tiptoe and pulled at the corner nearest 


108 THE SECOND VIOLIN 

her. The drawings fell from the table in a dis- 
ordered heap on the floor. 

The sight of them pleased Ellen immensely. 
She held one up and shook it in her small fists, 
slowly and carefully tore a corner off* it, and cast 
the sheet down in favour of the next in order. This 
she tore cleanly in two in the middle. The paper 
was tough, to be sure, but the little fists were strong 

Then she remembered that seductive bath-tub. 
A patter of little feet, a laugh of pleasure — “Da!” 
cried Ellen, gleefully — and the first sheet was in. 

Seven trips, pursued with vigour and growing 
hilarity, and Charlotte’s work had received its 
initial plunge into a new state of being. Four of 
the drawings had been torn in two. The bath- 
tub was a mass of softly blending colours. 

Charlotte came running back up the stairs, her 
mind, which had been held captive by a young 
caller, reverting with some anxiety to the small 
person whom she had left, as she thought, shut up 
in the safe bath-room. She expected to hear Ellen 
crying, as was likely to be the case when left alone 
without sufficient means of amusement; but the 
silence, as she flew up-stairs, alarmed her. Silence 
was almost sure to mean mischief. 

The bath-room door was ajar. Charlotte pushed 
it open and looked in. One glance showed her he 
havoc which had been wrought. She stopped 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


109 

short, staring with wild eyes into the bath-tub; 
then she caught her treasures out of it, held them 
dripping before her for an instant, and let them 
drop on the floor. She turned and ran out of the 
room to look for Ellen. 

The baby sat calmly on a rug, in the middle of 
Charlotte’s room, engaged in pulling the leaves, 
one by one, out of a small sketch-book which had 
been on the table with the drawings. She looked 
up, a most engaging and innocent expression on her 
round face, and smiled at Charlotte. But she met 
no smile in return. 

“You little wretch!” breathed Charlotte, be- 
tween her teeth, as she seized the sketch-book 
and whirled the baby to her feet. “Oh! Is this 
the way you pay me for all Eve done for you ? You 
wicked — cruel — heartless ” 

It was the explosion of a blind wrath which 
made the girl shake the tiny form until Baby Ellen 
roared lustily. Charlotte set her upon the floor 
again, and stood looking down at her with blazing 
eyes. The small head was clasped in two little 
fists, as the child tore at her yellow curls, her in- 
fant soul stirred to indignation and fright at this 
most unexpected treatment. Suddenly Charlotte 
seized her again and bore her swiftly away to 
Captain Rayburn’s room. 


no 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


“Take care of her for an hour? Surely. But 
what’s the matter ?” 

It was small wonder he asked, for Charlotte’s 
face was white, her eyes brilliant, and her lips 
quivering as she spoke: 

“It’s nothing — only baby has spoiled something 
of mine, and I’m so angry I don’t dare trust my- 
self with her.” 

She dropped little Ellen in his arms and fled, 
leaving her uncle to think what he might. He 
looked grave as he soothed the baby, whose small 
breast still heaved convulsively. 

“Are you conscientiously trying to do your full 
share in developing our little second fiddle’s 
capacity to play first ?” he asked the baby, with his 
face against hers. “Never mind, little one, never 
mind. Baby doesn’t know — but John Rayburn 
does — that this being a means of education to other 
people is a thankless task sometimes. Don’t cry. 
Aunty Charlotte will kiss her hard and fast by and 
by, to make up for losing her temper with the 
little maid. I suspect you were very, very trying, 
to make Aunty Charlotte look like that.” 

Charlotte came down-stairs after a time and 
attended to the luncheon, her lips pressed tight 
together, her eyes heavy — although not with tears. 
She would not let herself cry. 

Celia had a headache and did not notice, being 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


hi 


herself disinclined to talk, and Captain Rayburn 
forbore to look at Charlotte. But Jeff, when he 
came in, observed at once that something was 
amiss. As soon as the meal was over he drew 
Charlotte into a corner. 

“ You haven’t been to Murdock with the pictures 
and been — turned down ?” he asked. 

“No.” 

“Going this afternoon, aren’t you?” 

“No.” 

“Why not?” Thought that was the plan.” 

Charlotte turned away, fighting hard for self- 
control. Jeff caught her arm. 

“See here, Fiddle, you’ve got to tell me. You 
look like a ghost. No bad news — from New 
Mexico ?” 

“Oh, no — no! Please go away.” 

“I won’t till you tell me what’s up. You’re not 
sick?” 

Charlotte ran off up-stairs, Jeff following. 
“Charlotte,” he cried, as he pursued her into her 
room before she could turn and close the door, 
“what’s the use of acting like this?” Some- 
thing’s happened, and I’m going to know what 
it is.” 

Charlotte sat down in a despairing heap on the 
floor and hid her face in her hands. Jeff glanced 
helplessly from her to the table in the corner. 


1 12 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


Then he observed that it was bare of the pile of 
drawings. 

‘‘Nothing’s happened to the wall-paper?” he 
asked, eagerly. 

Charlotte nodded. 

“What?” 

“Go look up in the attic, if you must know.” 

Jeff dashed up-stairs, and surveyed the havoc. 
He came back breathless with dismay. 

“How did it happen ?” 

“ Baby — bath-tub. ” 

“The little — imp ! Are they spoiled ?” 

“You saw.” 

“Yes; colours run together a bit on some, others 
torn in two. Yet they show what they were, 
Fiddle — I vow they do. I’d take them just as they 
are, explain the whole thing, and see what comes 
of it.” 

Charlotte raised her head to shake it vigorously. 
“Offer work in such shape as that? I’m not 
such a goose.” 

“Got to do them all over?” 

Her head sank again. “ If I can get the 
courage.” 

“Of course you can,” declared Jeff, more 
cheerfully. “You never lack pluck. Poor girl, 
I’m mighty sorry, though. It’s simply tough to 
have it happen at the last minute. You’re all 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


“3 

tired out, too — I know you are; you ought never 
to have to do it all over again.” 

“If I could just have shown them to Mr. Mur- 
dock,” said Charlotte, heavily, “and have found 
out that it was the sort of thing they would like, it 
wouldn’t seem so hard to do them all over again. 
But to work for weeks more — and then perhaps 
have it a failure, after all ” 

“I know. Well, I’ve got to be off, or I’ll be 
late. Mid-term exams this week. Cheer up, 
Fiddle, maybe you can fix ’em up easier than you 
think.” 

Late in the afternoon Charlotte came to her 
uncle for the baby. He had cared for her all day. 

“She’s safe with you now?” he asked, with a 
keen look up into her quiet face. 

“I hope so.” Charlotte’s cheek was against 
the little head; she held the baby tenderly. 

“When she is in bed to-night will you come and 
tell me what she did ?” 

Charlotte shook her head, with a faint smile. 
“She wasn’t to blame. I left her alone for ten 
minutes.” 

“But I should like to know about it,” he said, 
coaxingly. “I have had rather a busy day with 
Ellen-baby — why not reward me with your con- 
fidence ?” 

But she would not promise; neither did she 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


in- 
come. This was exceedingly characteristic of 
the girl, but Captain Rayburn, his sharp eyes ob- 
serving in her aspect the signs of misery in spite of 
a brave attempt to seem cheerful, made up his 
mind to find out for himself. Twice he encount- 
ered her coming down from the attic, and each 
time she avoided speaking to him. 

That night, after everybody was in bed, Captain 
Rayburn, his canes held under his arm, crept 
slowly up-stairs, a little electric candle of his own 
in his pocket. By means of this he soon dis- 
covered Charlotte’s ruined work, which she had 
not yet found heart to remove from the place 
where she had first laid it, trusting to the privacy 
of a place which was seldom invaded by any- 
body. 

He sat down on a convenient box and studied 
the coloured plates and sketches. As he looked, 
his lips drew into a whistle of surprise and ad- 
miration, followed by a long breath of pity for 
what he was sure he understood. 

Jeff, having just dropped off into the sound 
sleep of the healthy boy, found himself gently 
punched into wakefulness. 

“Come to, Jeff, and tell me what I want to 
know,” said Captain Rayburn, smiling at his 
nephew in the dim white light from the candle. 
Jeff raised himself on his pillow. 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


1 15 

“Wh-what’s up ?” he grunted, blinking like an 
owl. 

“Nothing serious. What was Charlotte going 
to do with her colour drawings ? Show them to 
some wall-paper manufacturers ?” 

“What — er — yes — no. What do you know 
about it?” Jeff was up on his elbow now, 
staring at his uncle. 

“All about it — except that.” 

“Charlotte tell you? I didn’t think she ” 

“She didn’t. I guessed — and found out. You 
may as well tell me the rest. ” 

“Isn’t it a shame ? Poor girl’s worked months 
on those things; just got ’em done. You ought to 
have seen them; they were great. I told her she 
could take them as they were, but she wouldn’t 
hear of it.” 

“ But where were they going ?” 

“To Mr. Murdock, at Chrystler & Company’s 
office. He saw something of Charlotte’s once by 
chance, through a niece of his who’s Charlotte’s 
friend, and he sent word to Fiddle that she ought 
to cultivate that colour sense, or whatever it 
was, I forget what he called it — for she had it to 
an unusual degree. Charlotte has cultivated it 
for two years since then, and now — oh, confound 
that baby! That’s what you get for trying to be 


n6 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


a missionary. I wish we’d sent her to an or- 
phanage right off. What’s the use ? ” 

“You don’t feel that ‘sweet are the uses of ad- 
versity’ ? Sometimes they are, though, son. 
The little second violin hasn’t given in and wailed 
about it; I saw no traces of tears.” 

“No, you’re right you haven’t,” agreed Jeff, 
proudly. “She’s not that sort. She’s all broken 
up, though, inside, and I don’t blame her.” 

“No. Jeff, to-morrow — it’s Saturday, isn’t it ? 
You must get those drawings early in the morning, 
while Charlotte is busy with her Saturday baking. 
We’ll have a livery outfit, and you shall drive me 
down to Chrystler’s.” 

“Uncle Ray! You’re a trump! It’s just what I 
said should be done. The work shows perfectly 
well what she intended, and if a chap like you 
explains it ” 

Captain Rayburn limped away, laughing, his 
hand red with the tremendous grip his nephew had 
just given it. It gave him great pleasure to see the 
way the boy invariably stood by his sister. It was 
a characteristic of the Birch family, as a whole, 
which, it may be said, was worth more both to 
themselves and to the world at large than the 
possession of almost any other trait. 

It was not until dinner was over that Captain 
Rayburn and his nephew returned, begging pardon 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


ii 7 

for their tardiness, and explaining that they had 
taken luncheon in the city. 

“Fiddle,” Jeff said, with a face of preternatural 
gravity, “come up to Uncle Ray’s room when the 
dishes are done, will you ?” 

He vanished before his sister could ask why, 
and before she could see the grin which over- 
spread his ruddy countenance as he turned away. 
But something he could not keep out of his voice 
roused her curiosity, and she made quick work of 
the dishes. 

“Come in, come in!” invited Captain Rayburn, 
and Jeff rose from the couch, where his nose had 
been buried among some of his uncle’s periodicals. 

There were always books and magazines by the 
score wherever Captain Rayburn settled himself 
for any length of time. 

The ex-soldier and the schoolboy eyed each 
other doubtfully for an instant as Charlotte 
dropped into a chair. Her usually bright face was 
still very sober, and her eyelashes swept her cheek 
as she waited. 

Captain Rayburn nodded at Jeff. The boy 
stood on one foot, then on the other, pushed his 
hands deep into his pockets, pulled them out again, 
cleared his throat, laughed nervously, and strode 
suddenly across the room to his sister. He thrust 
out his hand as he came to a halt before her. 


ii8 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


“ Congratulations to the distinguished decorator !” 
he cried, and came to the end, temporarily, of his 
eloquence. 

Charlotte looked up in amazement. Jeff seized 
her hand and . pumped it up and down. She 
glanced in bewilderment at her uncle, and met his 
smile of encouragement. 

“Mine, too,” he said. 

“What — ” she began, and her voice stuck in 
her throat. Her heart began to thump wildly. 
Then Jeff told it all in one burst: 

“Uncle Ray found your stuff in the attic — 
thought it great — woke me up and ground it out 
of me what you meant to do with it. He was sure, 
as I was, it was fit to show, and you ought not to 
do it all over first. Got a horse, drove into 
Chrystler’s, saw Murdock. He would look at 
anything, listened to the story about the baby, 
looked at the stuff. Face changed — didn’t it. 
Uncle Ray ? — from politeness to interest, and all the 
rest of it. Said the work had faults, of course — 
you expected that, Fiddle — but it showed prom- 
ise — ‘great promise,’ that’s just what he said. He 
wants to see everything you do. He wants you 
to come and see him. He thinks he can use at 
least two of your rooms, after you’ve made them 
over. Oh, he was great! You’ve done it, Fiddle, 
you’ve done it!” 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


119 

But he was not prepared for the way his sister 
took the good news. She sat looking solemnly at 
him for a minute; then she jumped up, turned 
toward Captain Rayburn with a face on fire with 
conflicting and uncontrollable emotions, then 
whirled about and was out of the room like a flash. 

“Well, if I ever!” declared Jeff, in intense dis- 
pleasure, staring at his uncle. But Captain Ray- 
burn’s face was the picture of satisfaction. 

“It’s all right, Jeff,” said his uncle. “You 
never can tell what a woman will do, but you can 
count on one thing — it won’t be what you expect.” 

“You don’t suppose she was angry, do you ?” 

The captain smiled. No, I don’t think she was 
angry,” he said, confidently. 

The door flew open again. Two impetuous 
arms were around Jeff’s neck from behind, nearly 
strangling him. A breezy swirl of skirts, and 
Captain Rayburn feared for the integrity of his 
head upon his shoulders. And then the two were 
alone again. 

“Christopher Columbus! — discovered America 
in 1492!” ejaculated Jefferson, an expression of 
great delight irradiating his countenance. Then 
he looked at his uncle with an air of superior wis- 
dom. “ Now she’ll cry,” he said. 

“I shouldn’t wonder if she did,” agreed the 
captain, nodding. 


CHAPTER IX 


ANSE stood in the kitchen door, lunch-pail 



in hand. It lacked ten minutes of seven 
of a June morning; therefore he wore his work- 
ing clothes. He glanced down at them now with 
an expression of extreme distaste, then from 
Celia to Charlotte, both of whom wore fresh print 
dresses covered with the trim pinafore aprons 
which were Celia’s pride. 

“When this siege is over,” he remarked, “maybe 
I won’t appreciate the privilege of wearing clean 
linen from morning till night every day in the 
week.” 

“Poor old Lanse!” said Celia, with compas- 
sion. “That’s been the part that has tried your 
soul, hasn’t it! You haven’t minded the work, 
but the dirt ” 

“I hope I’m not a Nancy, either,” Lanse went 
on. “I’m sure I don’t feel that my wonderful 
dignity is compromised by my occupation. Better 
men than I soil their hands to more purpose every 
day, but — well, I must be off.” 

He departed abruptly, leaving Celia standing 
in the door to wave a hand to him as he turned 
the corner. 


120 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


121 


“John Lansing is tired,” she said to Charlotte, 
sisterly sympathy in her voice. “I don’t think 
we’ve half appreciated what all these months in 
the shops have meant to him. It isn’t as if he were 
training for one of the engineering specialties, and 
were interested in his work as practical education 
in his own line. He’ll never have the least use 
for anything he’s learning now.” 

“He may,” Charlotte suggested. “He may 
marry a girl who will want him to do odd jobs 
about the house. A mechanic in the family is an 
awfully desirable thing. Mrs. Fields says there’s 
nothing Doctor Churchill can’t do in the way of 
repairing; and when I told that to Uncle Ray he 
said that all good surgeons needed to be born 
mechanics, and usually were. And even though 
Lanse makes a lawyer, like father, he may need 
to get out of the automobile he’ll have some day, 
and crawl under it and make it over inside before 
he can go on.” 

Celia laughed, and went to call the rest of 
the family from their beds, early hours having 
now perforce become the habit of the Birch 
family. 

It was some three hours later that Charlotte 
sat down for a moment to rest on the little vine- 
covered back porch. The breakfast work and 
the bed-making were over, the kitchen was in 


122 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


order, and there was time to draw breath before 
plunging into the next set of duties. 

Celia had gone up-stairs to some summer sewing 
she had on hand; Captain Rayburn had taken the 
baby around the corner to a pretty park, where the 
two spent long hours now, in the perfect June 
weather; the boys w.ere at school, and the house 
was very still. 

Charlotte stretched her arms above her head, 
drawing a long breath. 

“How long ago it seems that I was free after 
breakfast to do what I wanted to!” she said to 
herself. “And how little I realised all the cares 
that were always on mother! Oh, if it were only 
time for them to come back — this day — this hour — 
this minute! I wouldn’t mind the work now, if 
they were only here.” 

The girl’s gaze, fixed wistfully on the leafy tree- 
tops above her, suddenly dropped to earth. A 
man’s figure was stumbling along the little path 
which led diagonally from the back of the Birch 
premises through a gateway and off toward a back 
street, the route by which Lanse was accustomed 
to take an inconspicuous short cut toward the loco- 
motive shops, by the river. 

For an instant, only the similarity of the figure 
to Lanse’s struck her, for the wavering walk and 
bandaged head, with hand pressed to the forehead, 



Courtesy of “ The Youth's Companion.” 

“ He was leaning heavily on his sister’s strong young 
shoulder.” 



THE SECOND VIOLIN 


123 


did not suggest her brother. At the next instant 
the man lifted a white face, and Charlotte gave a 
startled cry as she saw that it was John Lansing 
himself, in a sorry plight. 

She ran to him. His head was clumsily tied up 
in a soiled cloth, which the blood was beginning 
to stain. As she put her arm about him he smiled 
wanly down at her, murmuring, “ Thought I 
couldn’t make it — glad I have. No — not the 
house — Doctor’s office. Don’t want to scare 
Celia. It’s nothing.” 

It might be nothing, but he was leaning heavily 
on his sister’s strong young shoulder as they crossed 
the threshold of Doctor Churchill’s little office, 
Charlotte having flung open the door without 
waiting to ring. Nobody was there. 

“No, don’t try to sit up in a chair. Here, lie 
down on the couch,” she insisted, and Lanse 
yielded, none too soon. His face had lost all 
colour by the time he had stretched his tall form 
on the wide leather couch which stood ready for 
just such occupants. 

Charlotte went back to the door and rang the 
bell; then, as nobody appeared, she explored the 
lower part of the house for Mrs. Fields in 
vain. 

Returning, she caught sight for the first time 
of a little memorandum on the doctor’s desk: 


124 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


“Out. Return 10:30 A. M .” She glanced at 
the clock. It was exactly quarter past ten. 

She studied her brother’s face anxiously. The 
stain upon the cloth was rapidly growing larger. 
She was sure he ought not to lie there with the 
bleeding unchecked. She went to the door of the 
small private office; her eyes fell upon a package 
labeled “ Absorbent Cotton.” She opened it, 
pulled out a handful, and went back to her 
brother. 

She lifted the cloth from his head, and saw a 
long, uneven gash, from which the blood was 
freely oozing. Taking two rolls of cotton, she 
laid one on each side of the wound, forcing the 
edges together. After a little experimenting she 
found that by holding her cotton very firmly and 
pressing in a certain way, the flow of the blood 
was almost completely checked. 

“Does that hurt?” she asked Lanse. He 
nodded without speaking, but she did not lighten 
her pressure. She saw that he was very 
faint. 

“I’m sorry it hurts you, dear,” she said, “but 
it stops the blood when I press this way, and I’m 
sure that’s better for you. The doctor will be here 
soon, and I think I’d better hold it till he comes.” 

Lanse nodded again, his brows contracting with 
pain, not only from the pressure upon the wound, 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


125 

but from the reaction from the blow which had 
caused it. 

Charlotte’s eyes watched the clock, her hands 
never relinquishing their task. 

“What next?” she was thinking. “Will the 
time ever be up and father and mother come back 
to find us all safe ? Three more months — three 
more months ” 

Dr. Andrew Churchill came whistling softly 
across the lawn, glancing at his watch, and noting 
that he was fifteen minutes later than he had ex- 
pected to be. In the doorway of his office he 
came to a surprised halt. 

“Miss Charlotte! What’s happened?” 

Lanse spoke faintly for himself : “Got hit at the 
shop — wrench slipped out of man’s hands above 
me — nothing much ” 

“No — I see,” the doctor answered, surveying 
the situation. 

He lifted Charlotte’s cotton rolls, noted the 
character and extent of the injury, and lost no 
time in getting at work. 

“Keep up that pressure just as you were doing, 
please, Miss Charlotte, while I make things ready. 
We’ll have you all right in a jiffy, Birch.” 

Two minutes later the doctor had Lanse 
stretched on a narrow white table in an inner office. 
“Tve got to hurt you quite a bit,” he said to his 


126 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


patient. “I don’t want to give you an anesthetic, 
but somebody must hold your head. Shall I call 
Mrs. ‘Fields ?” 

He glanced at Charlotte, and met what he had 
counted on — her help. “No, I can manage,” 
she said quietly. 

The doctor was soon ready, with arms, surgi- 
cally clean, bared to the elbows. 

It was rather a bad ten minutes for Lanse that 
followed, although he bore it bravely, without a 
sound. The strong, steady support of his sister’s 
hands on the sides of his head never varied, and 
her eyes watched the doctor’s rapid movements 
with absorbed attention. Doctor Churchill glanced 
at her two or three times, but met only quiet 
resolve in her face, which, although pale, showed 
no sign of weakness. 

The injury was a severe one, being no clean cut, 
but a jagged gash several inches in length, caused 
by a heavy blow with a rough tool. Charlotte 
observed that the worker seemed never at a loss 
what to do, that his touch was as light as it was 
practised, and that his eyes were full of keen in- 
terest in his work. At length Doctor Churchill 
finished his manipulations and put on the smooth 
bandages, which, he remarked with a laugh, were 
to turn Lanse into the image of the Terrible 
Turk. 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


127 


“You show all the Spartan attributes of the 
real martyr,” declared the doctor, as he helped his 
patient back to a couch. “It took pluck to get 
home here alone. How was it they sent no man 
with you?” 

“Everybody busy. A man was coming with 
me if Td let him, but I didn’t care for his company 
so I slipped out. It was farther home than I 
thought,” Lanse explained. “How long will this 
lay me up ? I can go back to-morrow, can’t I ?” 

“Suppose we say the day after. That hammock 
on your front porch behind the vines strikes me as 
a restful place for you. A bit of vacation won’t 
hurt you.” 

By afternoon the ache in John Lansing’s head 
had reached a point where he gladly lay quietly 
in the hammock and submitted to be waited on by 
two devoted feminine slaves. The doctor came 
over to see him after supper, and found him in a 
high state of restlessness. He got him to bed, 
stayed with him until he fell into an uneasy slumber, 
then left him in charge of Celia, and came so 
quietly down to the front porch again that he 
startled Charlotte, who lay in the hammock Lanse 
had lately quitted. 

“Do you need me?” she asked eagerly. “I 
thought Lanse would rather have Celia with him, 


128 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


and I was sure she wanted to take care of him, so 
I stayed. But Em ready, if Em wanted.” 

“ You're wanted,” returned Doctor Churchill, 
gently, “but not up-stairs just now. Lie still in 
that hammock; let me fix the pillows a bit. Yes, 
do, please. Do you know it’s positively the first 
time Eve seen you appearing to rest since Eve 
known you?” 

“Why, Doctor Churchill!” 

“It’s absolutely so. You’re growing thin under 
the cares you’ve assumed. And I suspect, besides 
the cares, you keep yourself busy when you ought 
to be resting. Am I right ?” 

Charlotte coloured in the twilight of the porch, 
which the thick vines of the wistaria screened from 
the electric light on the corner, except for a few 
feet at the end nearest the door. She had been 
working harder than ever all the spring over her 
designs for Chrystler & Company, and her cheeks 
were of a truth somewhat less round and her 
colour less vivid of hue. She was tired, although 
she had not owned it, even to herself. 

“You see, Doctor Churchill,” she said, slowly, 
“until father and mother went away I had been 
the lazy one of the family, the good-for-nothing — 
the drone — and Eve not yet learned to work in the 
quiet way my sister does, which accomplishes so 
much without any fuss. Now that she can get 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


129 


about again she does twice as much as I do, but 
she doesn’t make such a clatter of tools, and doesn’t 
get the credit for being as busy as I.” 

“I see. Of course I had a feeling all along that 
this dish-washing and dinner-getting and baby- 
tending were mere pretense, and I’m relieved to 
have you own up to it!” 

Charlotte laughed. “ After all, one doesn’t 
like to be taken at one’s own estimate,” she ad- 
mitted. “I confess I feel a pang to have you 
agree with me, even in jest.” 

“Do you know,” he said, abruptly, after an 
instant’s, silence, “you gave me great pleasure 
this morning?” 

“I? How?” 

“By the way you stood by your brother.” 

“Oh!” said Charlotte, astonished. “But I 
didn’t do anything. 

“Nothing at all, except keep cool and hold 
steady. Those are the hardest things a surgeon 
can set a novice at, you know.” 

“But you needed me; and Mrs. Fields was out. 
You didn’t know that, but I did. And I don’t 
think I’m one of the fainting-away kind.” 

“No, you can stand fire. I think sometimes 
— do you know what I think ?” 

Charlotte waited, her cheeks warm in the dark- 
ness. Praise is always sweet when one has earned it. 


i^o 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


“I believe you would stand by a friend — to 
the last ditch.” 

Charlotte was silent for a minute; then she 
answered, low and honestly, “ If he were a friend 
at all worth having I should try.” 

“And expect the same loyalty in return ?” 

“Indeed I should.” 

“I should like,” said Doctor Churchill’s steady 
voice, “to try a friendship like that — an acknowl- 
edged one. I always was a fellow who liked 
things definite. I don’t like to say to myself, T 
think that man is my friend — I’m sure he is — he 
shows it.’ No, I want him to say so — to shake 
hands on it. I had such a friend once — the only 
one. When he died I felt I had lost — I can’t tell 
you what, Miss Charlotte. I never had another.” 

There was a long silence this time. The figure 
in the hammock lay still. But Charlotte’s heart 
was beating hard. She knew already that Doctor 
Churchill was the warm friend of the family. 
Could he mean to single her out as the special 
object of his regard — her, Charlotte — when peo- 
ple like Lanse and Celia were within reach ? 

Charlotte rose to her feet, the doctor rising with 
her. She held out her hand, and he could see that 
she was looking steadily up at him. He gazed 
back at her, and a bright smile broke over his 
face. 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


I 3 I 

“Do you mean it?” he said, eagerly. “Oh, 
thank you!’’ 

He grasped the firm young hand as Charlotte 
fancied he might have grasped that of the comrade 
he had lost. 

“Can’t we take a little walk in this glorious 
moonlight?” he asked, happily. “Just up and 
down the block once or twice ? Or are you too 
tired?” 

Charlotte was not too tired; her weariness had 
vanished as if by magic. The two strolled slowly 
up and down the quiet street, talking earnestly. 
The doctor told his companion about several 
interesting cases he had among the children, and 
of one little crippled boy upon whom he had re- 
cently operated. The girl listened with an un- 
affected interest and sympathy very grateful to the 
man who had long missed companionship of that 
sort. An hour went by as if on wings. 

Celia came to the door as the two young people 
were saying good-night at the foot of the steps. 
The doctor looked up at her with a smile. 

“Is the patient quiet ?” he asked. 

“Yes, only he mutters in his sleep.” 

“That’s not strange. He’s bound to be a bit 
feverish after that blow; but I don’t anticipate 
serious trouble. Let Jeff sleep on the couch in 
his room; that will be all that’s necessary.” 


132 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


Celia stood looking down at the doctor as her 
sister came up the steps. “It’s strange,” she 
said, “for I know Lanse isn’t badly hurt, but all 
I can think of to-night is how I wish father and 
mother were here.” 

“That’s been in my head all day,” said Char- 
lotte, with her arm around Celia’s shoulder. 

“I can understand,” Doctor Churchill an- 
swered them both, and they knew he could. “But 
just remember that though they were on the 
other side of the world to stay for years, they 
can still come back to you. Just to know that 
seems to me enough.” 

They understood him. Celia would have made 
warm-hearted answer, but at that instant the 
sound of heavy carriage-wheels rapidly rounding 
the corner and coming toward them made all 
three turn to look. The carriage came on at a 
great pace, swerved toward them, and drew in to 
the curb, the driver pulling in his horses at their 
door. 

“Who can it be?” breathed Celia. “Nobody 
has written. It must be a mistake.” 

Charlotte gasped. “It couldn’t be — Celia — it 
couldn't be ” 

The driver leaped from the box and flung open 
the door. A tall figure stepped out, turned toward 
them as if trying to make sure who they were, then 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


i33 


waved its arm. The familiar gesture brought two 
cries of rapture as Charlotte rushed and Celia 
hurried down the steps. 

The doctor stood still and watched, his pulse 
quickening in sympathy. He saw the tall figure 
grasp in turn both the slender ones, heard two 
eager cries of “Mother!” and beheld the second 
occupant of the carriage fairly dragged out, to be 
smothered in two pairs of impetuous young arms. 
Then he went quietly away over the lawn to his 
own house, feeling that he had as yet no right to 
be one of the group about the home-comers. 

In his room, an hour later, he stood before the 
portrait of a woman, no longer young, but beauti- 
ful with the beauty which never grows old. He 
stood looking up at it, then spoke gently to it. 

“She’s just your sort, dear,” he said, his keen 
eyes soft and bright. “It’s only friendship now, 
for she’s not much more than a child, and I 
wouldn’t ask too much too soon. But some day — 
give me your blessing, mother, for I’ve been lonely 
without you as long as I can bear it.” 


CHAPTER X 


r 8 A HE genfle art of cooking in a chafing-dish,” 
discoursed Captain John Rayburn, lightly 
stirring in a silver basin the ingredients 'of the 
cream sauce he was making for the chopped 
chicken which stood at hand in a bowl, “is one 
particularly adapted to the really intelligent mascu- 
line mind. No noise, no fuss, no worry, no smoke, 
everything systematic,” — with a practised hand 
he added the cream little by little to the melted 
butter and flour — “business-like and practical. 
It is a pleasure to contemplate the delicate growth 
of such a dish as this which I am preparing. It 
is ” 

“You may have thickening enough for all that 
cream,” Celia interrupted, doubtfully, watching 
her uncle's cookery with an anxious eye. 

“And you may have sufficient mental poise to be 
able to lecture on cookery and do the trick at the 
same time,” supplemented Doctor Churchill, his 
eyes also on the chafing.-dish. In fact, every- 
body's eyes were on the chafing-dish. 

The entire Birch family, Doctor Churchill, 
Lanse’s friend, Mary Atkinson; Jeff's comrade, 
i34 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


i35 


Carolyn Houghton; and Just’s inseparable, Nor- 
man Carter — Just scorned girls, and when asked 
to choose whom he would have as a guest for 
Captain Rayburn’s picnic, mentioned Norman 
with an air of finality — sat about a large rustic 
table upon a charming spot of greensward among 
the trees of a little island four miles down the 
river. 

A great bowl of pond-lilies decorated the centre 
of the table; and bunches of the same flowers, 
tied with long yellow ribbons, lay at each plate. 

When Captain Rayburn entertained he always 
did it in style. And since this picnic had been 
especially designed to celebrate the home-coming 
of the travellers, a week after their arrival, no 
pains had been spared to make the festival one 
to be remembered. 

Mrs. Birch was in the seat of honour, a position 
which she graced. In a summer gown of white, 
her face round and glowing as it had not been in 
years, she seemed the central flower of a most 
attractive bouquet. Mr. Birch looked about him 
with appreciative eyes. 

“I don’t think I could attend to the chafing- 
dish with any certainty of result,” he remarked. 
“I am too much occupied in observing the guests. 
It strikes me that nowhere, either in New Mexico 
or Colorado, did I see any people approaching 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


136 

those before me in interest and attractiveness. 
Except one,” he amended, as a general laugh 
greeted this extraordinary statement, “and even 
she never seemed to me quite so ” He hesi- 

tated. 

“Say it, sir!” cried Lanse. “We’re with you* 
whatever it is. I think ‘beautiful’ is the word you 
want.” 

Mr. Birch’s face lighted with a smile. “Thank 
you, that is the word,” he said. 

The captain stirred his chopped chicken into 
his cream sauce with the air of a chef. “Now here 
you are,” he said. 

The captain would not allow everything upon 
the table at once, picnic fashion, but kept the 
viands behind a screen a few feet away, and with 
Jeff’s and Just’s assistance, served them according 
to his ideas of the fitness of things. 

Toward the end of the feast a particularly fine 
strawberry shortcake appeared, which was fol- 
lowed by ice-cream. Altogether, the captain’s 
guests declared no picnic had ever been so satis- 
factory. 

“Isn’t the captain great ?” said Doctor Church- 
ill, enthusiastically, to Celia, when they had all 
left the table and were beginning to stroll about. 
“Cut off from the sort of thing he would like best 
to do — that he aches to do — he occupies himself 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


i37 


with what comes in his way. He would deceive 
any one into thinking him completely satisfied. ,, 

“Em so glad you understand him,” Celia 
answered. “Everybody doesn’t. Just the other 
day a caller said to me, ‘Isn’t it lovely that Captain 
Rayburn is so contented with his quiet life ? 
Whenever I see him sitting in the park with the 
baby and a book, I think what a mercy it is that 
he isn’t like some men, or he never could take it 
so calmly.’ Calmly! Uncle Ray would give his 
life to-morrow night if he could have a day at the 
head of his company over there in the Philippines. ” 

“I don’t doubt it for an instant. Since I’ve 
known him I’ve learned more admiration for the 
way he keeps himself in hand than I ever had for 
any single quality in any human being. I’m 
mighty sorry he’s going away. It’s for a year in 
France and Italy, he tells me.” 

“Yes. He’s very fond of travel, and I imagine 
he’s a little restless after the winter here. Do you 
know what I suspect ? That he came just so that 
mother might feel somebody was keeping an eye 
on us.” 

“That would be like him. He’s immensely 
fond of you all.” 

Celia caught sight of her uncle beckoning to her, 
and went to him. Doctor Churchill saw Mrs. 
Birch, lying among the gay striped pillows in a 


i3« 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


hammock which had been brought along for her 
special use, and went over to her. His eyes noted 
the direction in which Charlotte was vanishing, 
but he sat down on a log by the hammock as if 
he had no other thought than for the gracious lady 
who looked up at him with a smile. 

And indeed he had thought for her. It was im- 
possible to be with her and not give oneself up to 
her charm. 

“I have been wanting to see you alone for a 
minute, Doctor Churchill/’ she said. “It has 
been such a busy week I haven’t had half a chance 
to express to you how I appreciate your care for 
my little family. And especially I am grateful to 
you for the perfect recovery of Celia’s knee. 
Doctor Forester has assured me that the knee 
might easily have been a bad case.” 

“I am very thankful that the results were good, 
Mrs. Birch,” Doctor Churchill answered. 

Nobody interrupted the two for a long half-hour. 
At the end of it Doctor Churchill rose, his eyes 
kindling. 

“ Thank you ! ” he said fervently. “ Thank you ! 
More than that I won’t ask — yet. But if you 
will trust me — I promise you may trust me, little 
as you know me — you may be sure I shall 
keep my word, not only to you, but to my mother. 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


i39 

I know her ideals, and if I can be fit to be the 
friend of one who fills them ” 

Mrs. Birch held out her hand. 

“I do trust you, Doctor Churchill,’’ she said. 
“Not only from what Doctor Forester has told me 
of your family, but from what I have seen and 
heard for myself.” 

With a light heart the doctor went away over the 
hill to the path which descended to the river. Far 
down the bank, near the pond-lilies, he had caught 
a glimpse of a blue linen gown. 

Captain Rayburn and Celia came over to es- 
tablish themselves upon rugs and cushions by the 
side of the hammock. Mr. Birch, who had been 
out with Just and Norman in a boat, appeared, 
sunburned and warm, and joined the party. 

“I’ve been wanting to get just this quartet to- 
gether,” remarked the captain, when his brother- 
in-law had cooled off and was lying comfortably 
stretched along a mossy knoll. 

“Go ahead, Jack, we are ready to listen. Your 
plans are always interesting,” Mr. Birch replied. 
“ What now ?” 

“In the first place,” began the captain, “I 
want you people to understand that the person who 
has had least fun out of this absence of yours is 
the young woman before you.” 


140 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


“O Uncle Ray!” protested Celia, instantly. 
“Haven’t I had as much fun as you ?” 

“Hardly. Between Mrs. Fields and Miss Ellen 
Donohue I don’t know when I’ve been so en- 
livened. I hardly know which of the two has 
afforded me more downright amusement, each in 
her way. But Celia, I tell you, Roderick and 
Helen, has been one brave girl, and that’s all 
there is of it.” 

“You’ll find no dissenting voice here,” Celia’s 
father declared, and her mother added: 

“Nobody who knows her could expect her to 
be anything else.” 

Celia looked away, her cheeks flushing. 

“So now I want her to have her reward,” said 
Captain Rayburn. “Let me take her with me for 
the year abroad.” 

Celia started, glancing quickly from her father 
to her mother, neither of whom looked so sur- 
prised as she would have expected. Both returned 
her gaze thoughtfully. 

“How about the going to college ?” Mr. Birch 
questioned. “I thought that was the great am- 
bition.” 

“She shall have a four year’s course in one if 
she comes with me. I shall spend much time in 
the libraries and art collections. My friends in 
several cities are people it is worth a long journey 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


141 

to meet. Undoubtedly such a year would be 
valuable at the end of a college course, and it may 
appear to you that the studies within the scholastic 
walls in this country had better come first. The 
point is that I am going now. I may not be, at the 
moment Celia takes her diploma. And the ques- 
tion of her health seems to me also one to be con- 
sidered. Months of enforced quiet haven’t been 
any too good for her.” 

“There’s not much need to ask Celia what she 
would like,” Mr. Birch observed. 

The girl studied his face anxiously. “But could 
you spare me?” she asked. “If it means that 
mother would have to take my place again — « — ” 

“It won’t mean that,” said Captain Rayburn, 
stoutly. “ My plans cover two maids in the Birch 
household, the most capable to be obtained.” 

“See here Jack,” said Mr. Roderick Birch, 
quickly, “you can’t play good fairy for the whole 
family — and it’s not necessary. As soon as I 
am at work in the office again this close figuring 
will be over. ” 

“ I want my niece Charlotte to go to her school 
of design,” the captain went on, imperturbably. 

“We mean that she shall.” 

“I wish you people would let me alone!” he 
cried. “Here I am, your only brother, without 
a chick or a child of my own. Am I to be denied 


142 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


what is the greatest delight I can have ? By a 
lucky accident my money was safe in the panic that 
swept away yours. Pure luck or providence, or 
whatever you choose to call it — certainly not be- 
cause my business sagacity was any greater than 
yours. You wouldn’t take a cent from me at the 
time, but you’ve got to let me have my way now. 
Celia goes with me — if you agree. Charlotte 
goes to her art school, and if you refuse me the 
fun of assuming both expenses, I’ll be tremend- 
ously offended — no joke, I shall.” 

He looked so fierce that everybody laughed — 
somewhat tremulously. There could be no doubt 
that he meant all he said. Celia’s cheeks were 
pink with excitement; Mrs. Birch’s were of a 
similar hue, in sympathy with her daughter’s joy. 

“I tell you, that girl Charlotte,” began the cap- 
tain again, “ deserves all anybody can do for her. 
She has developed three years in one. Fond as 
I’ve always been of her, I hadn’t the least idea 
what was in the child. She’s going to make a 
woman of a rare sort. Look here!” A new idea 
flashed into his mind. 

He considered it for the space of a half-minute, 
then brought it forth : 

“Let me take her, too. Not for the year — 
don’t look as if I’d hit you, Helen — just till 
October. I mean to sail in ten days, you know. 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 

I’ve engaged plenty of room. There’ll 
trouble about a berth ” 

“O Uncle Ray!” Celia interrupted him. 
could be no question about her unselfish soul. If 
she had been happy before, she was rapturous 
now. 

“Three months will give her quite a journey,” 
the captain hurried on, leaving nobody any time 
for objections. “ I’ll see that she gets art enough 
out of it to fill her to the brim with inspiration. 
And there will surely be somebody she can come 
back with. May I have her ?” 

“What shall we do with you?” his sister said, 
softly. “I can’t deny you — or her. If her father 
agrees ” 

“ If I didn’t know your big heart so well, J ack, ” 
said Roderick Birch, slowly, “I should be too 
proud to accept so much, even from my wife’s 
brother. But I believe it would be unworthy of 
me — or of you — to let false pride stand in my 
girls’ way.” 

From the distance two figures were approaching, 
one in blue linen, the other in white flannel — Char- 
lotte and Doctor Churchill. 

They were talking gaily, laughing like a pair of 
very happy children, and carrying between them 
a great bunch of daisies and buttercups that would 
have hid a church pulpit from view. 


143 
be no 

There 


144 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


“Let’s tell her now,” proposed Celia. “I can’t 
wait to have her know.” 

“Go ahead,” agreed her uncle. “And let the 
doctor hear it, too. If he isn’t a brother of the 
family, it’s because the family doesn’t know one of 
the finest fellows on the face of the earth when 
it sees him.” 

“You’re a most discerning chap, Jack Ray- 
burn,” said his brother-in-law, heartily, “but 
there are other people with discernment. I have 
liked young Churchill from the moment I saw him 
first. All that Forester says of him confirms my 
opinion.” 

“How excited you people all look!” called 
Charlotte, merrily, as she drew near. “Tell us 
why.” 

Captain Rayburn nodded to Celia. She shook 
her head vigorously in return. He glanced at 
Mr. and Mrs. Birch, both of whom smilingly re- 
fused to speak. So he looked up at Charlotte, and 
put his question as he might have fired a shot. 

“Will you sail for Europe with Celia and me 
week after next, to stay till October? Celia will 
stay the year with me; you I shall ship home as 
useless baggage in the fall.” 

Charlotte stood still, her arms tightening about 
the daisies and buttercups, as if they represented 
a baby whom she must not let fall. A rich wave 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


H5 


of colour swept over her face. She looked from one 
to another of the group as if she could not believe 
her good fortune. Then suddenly she dropped her 
flowers in an abandoned heap, clasped her hands 
tightly together, and drew one long breath of delight. 

“Can you spare me ?” she murmured, her eyes 
upon her mother. 

Mrs. Birch nodded, smiling. “I surely can,” 
she said. 

“Turn about is fair play,” said Mr. Birch, 
“and your uncle seems to consider himself a person 
of authority.” 

“I want,” declared Captain Rayburn, his 
bright eyes studying each niece’s winsome young 
face in turn, “in the interest of the family orches- 
tra, to tune the violins.” 

“Speaking of violins,” said the captain, half 
an hour later, quite as if no interval of busy talk 
and plan-making had occured, “suppose we see 
about how far off the key they are at present. Jeff 
—Just ” 

Everybody stared, then laughed, for Jeff and 
Just instantly produced, from behind that same 
screen, five green-flanneled, familiar shapes. The 
entire company had reassembled under the oak- 
trees, drawn together by a secret summons from 
the captain. 


146 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


“Now see here, Uncle Ray,” remonstrated his 
eldest nephew, “this is stealing a march on us with 
a vengeance.” 

“I’m entirely willing you should let a march 
steal on me,” retorted the captain, disposing him- 
self comfortably among his rugs and cushions, 
“or a waltz, or a lullaby, or anything else you 
choose. But music of some sort I must have.” 

Laughing, they tuned their instruments, and 
the rest of the company settled down to listen. 
Lanse, his eyes mischievous, passed a whispered 
word among the musicians, and presently, at the 
signal, the well-known notes of “ Hail to the Chief 9 
were sounding through the woods, played with 
great spirit and zest. And as they played, the five 
Birches marched to position in front of the captain, 
then stood still and saluted. 

“Off* with you, you strolling players!” cried the 
captain. “The spectacle of a ’cello player attempt- 
ing to carry his instrument and perform upon it at 
the same time is enough to upset me for a week. 
Sit down comfortably, and give us ‘ The Sweetest 
Flower That Blows 9 99 

So they played, softly now, and with full appre- 
ciation of the fact that the melodious song was one 
of their mother’s favourites. 

But suddenly they had a fresh surprise, for as 
they played, a voice from the little audience joined 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


i47 


them, under his breath at first, then — as the cap- 
tain turned and made vigorous signs to the singer 
to let his voice be heard — with tunefully swelling 
notes, which fell upon all their ears like music of 
a rare sort: 

“The sweetest flower that blows 
I give you as we part. 

To you it is a rose, 

To me it is my heart.” 

The captain knew, as the voice went on, that 
those barytone notes were very fine ones — knew 
better than the rest, as having a wider acquaintance 
with voices in general. But they all understood 
that it was to no ordinary singer they were listening. 

When the song ended the captain reached over 
and laid a brotherly arm on Doctor Churchiirs 
shoulder. “Welcome, friend,” he said, with 
feeling in his voice. “You’ve given the counter- 
sign.” 

But the doctor, although he received modestly 
the words of praise which fell upon him from 
all about, would sing no more that day. It had 
been the first time for almost three years. And 
“The Sweetest Flower That Blows ” was not only 
Mrs. Birch’s favourite song; it had been Mrs. 
Churchill’s also. 


148 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


“See here, Churchill,” said Lanse, as the 
orchestra rested for a moment, “do you play any 
instrument ?” 

“Only as a novice,” admitted the doctor, with 
some reluctance. 

“Which one?” 

“The fiddle.” 

“And never owned up!” chided Lanse. “You 
didn’t want to belong to such an amateurish com- 
pany ?” 

“I did — very much,” said Churchill, with 
emphasis. “But you needed no more violins.” 

“If I’m to be away all next year,” said Celia, 
quickly, “they will need you. Will you take my 
place ?” 

“No, indeed, Miss Celia,” the doctor answered, 
decidedly. “But if you would let me play — 
second.” 

He looked at Charlotte, smiling. She re- 
turned his smile, but shook her head. “I’m 
Second Fiddle,” she said. “I’ll never take 
Celia’s place.” 

The eyes of the two sisters met, affectionately, 
comprehendingly 

“I should like to have you, dear,” said Celia, 
softly. 

But Charlotte only shook her head again, co- 
louring beneath the glances which fell on her from 



Ihe Youth's Companion.” 


Courtesy of 


“ ‘ Here’s to the Second Violin ! * ” 
















































* 










. 























THE SECOND VIOLIN 


149 

all sides. “I’d rather play my old part,” she 
answered. 

Jeff caught up and lifted high in the air an 
imaginary glass. 

“ Here’s to the orchestra ! ” he called out. “ May 
Doctor Churchill read the score of the first violin. 
Here’s to the First Violin! May she hear plenty 
of fine music in the old country, and come back 
ready to coach us all. And here’s ” 

He paused and looked impressively round upon 
the company, who regarded him in turn with 
interested, sympathetic eyes. “I say we’ve called 
her ‘Second Fiddle’ long enough,” he said, and 
hesitated, beginning to get stranded in his own 
eloquence. “Anyhow, if she hasn’t proved this 
year that she’s fit to play anything — dishes or 
wallpaper or babies — ” He stopped, laughing. 
“I don’t know how to say it, but as sure as my 
name’s Jefferson Birch she — er ” 

“Hear! hear!” the captain encouraged him 
softly. 

“Here’s,” — shouted the boy, “here’s to the 
Second Violin!” 

Through the friendly laughter and murmurs of 
appreciation, Charlotte, dropping shy, happy eyes, 
read the real love and respect of everybody, and 
felt that the year’s experiences had brought her a 
rich reward. But all she said, as Jeff, exhausted 


150 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


by his effort at oratory, dropped upon the grass 
beside her, was in his ear: 

“If anybody deserves a toast, Jeffy boy, I 
think it’s you. You’ve eaten so many slices of 
mine — burnt to a cinder — and never winced! If 
that isn’t heroism, what is ?” 


BOOK II 

THE CHURCHILL LATCH-STRING 






































CHAPTER I 


H ERE’S another, Charlotte!” 

Young Justin Birch’s lusty shout rang^ 
through the house from hall to kitchen, 
vibrating even as far as the second-story room in 
the rear, where Charlotte herself happened at that 
moment to be. In response people appeared 
from everywhere. The bride-elect was the last to 
put in an appearance, and when she came, there 
was a certain reluctance in her aspect. 

“Hurry up, there!” admonished Just, already 
busy with chisel and hammer at the slender, flat 
box which lay upon the hall floor, in the centre of 
an interested group. He paused to glance up at 
his sister, where she had stopped upon the land- 
ing. “You act as if you didn’t want to see what’s 
in it,” he remonstrated, whacking away vigor- 
ously. 

“Indeed I do,” Charlotte declared, coming on 
down the staircase, smiling at the faces upturned 
toward her, which were smiling back, every one. 
“But I’m beginning to feel as if I — as if they — as 
if ” 

“It must seem odd to feel like that,” John 
153 


154 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


Lansing agreed, quizzically. Lanse had but 
just arrived, having come on especially for the 
wedding, from the law-school at which he had been 
for two years. 

Celia slipped her arm about her younger sister’s 
shoulders. “I know what she means,” she said, 
in her gentle way. “It’s so unexpected to her, 
after sending out no invitations at all, that gifts 
should keep pouring in like this. But it’s not un- 
expected to us.” 

“Oh, I know how many of them come from 
father’s and mother’s friends, and how many from 
Andy’s grateful patients. It’s all the more over- 
whelming on that account.” 

“ Look out there, J ust ! ” The admonition came 
from Jeff, and consequently was delivered from 
some six feet in the air, where that nineteen-year- 
old’s head was now carried. “Don’t split those 
pieces; they’ll be fine for the Emerson boys’ 
building.” 

“That’s so.” Just wielded his tools with 
more care. Presently he had the long parcel 
lying on the floor. At this moment Mr. Roderick 
Birch opened the outer hall door. 

“As usual,” was his smiling comment, as he 
laid aside hat and overcoat and joined the circle. 
“Charlotte’s latest?” 

Charlotte herself undid the wrappings, won- 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


x 55 


dering what the gift could be. She disclosed a 
long piece of dingy-looking metal. 

“ A new shingle for Andy!” cried Jeff. 

Just turned the heavy slab over, and it proved 
to be of copper. Words came into view, ham- 
mered and beaten into the glinting metal. An 
effective conventionalised border surrounded the 
whole. 

“ ‘Ye Ornaments of a House are ye Guests 
who Frequent it/ ” read the assembled company, 
in chorus. 

“Oh, isn’t that beautiful!” cried Charlotte. 

Jeff glanced at her suspiciously. “She says 
that about everything,” he remarked. “Don’t 
think much of it myself. The sentiment may be 
awfully true — or otherwise; but what’s the thing 
for ? If anybody wanted to hint at an invitation 
to visit Andy and Charlotte, he might have done 
it without putting himself on record on a slab of 
copper four feet long. Who sent it, anyway ?” 

Celia hunted carefully through the wrappings, 
and everybody finally joined in the search, but no 
card appeared. 

“I’m so sorry!” lamented Charlotte. “I shall 
never know whom to thank.” 

“It lets you out, anyhow,” Jeff said, soothingly. 
“You won’t have to tell any lies. The thing is 
of about as much use as a bootjack.” 


156 THE SECOND VIOLIN 

“Why, but it’s lovely!” protested Charlotte, 
with evident sincerity. “Copper things are very 
highly valued just now, and the work on that is 
artistic. Don’t you see it is ?” 

“Can’t see it,” murmured Jeff. “But of 
course my not seeing it doesn’t count. I can’t see 
the value of that idiotic old battered-up copper 
pail you cherish so tenderly, but that’s because I 
lack the true, heaven-born artist’s soul. Where 
are you going to put this, Fiddle ?” 

Charlotte’s eyes grew absent. She was sending 
them in imagination across the lawn to the little 
old brick house next door, which was soon to be 
her home, as she had done every time a new gift 
arrived. There were a good many puzzles of 
this sort in connection with her wedding gifts. 
Where to put some of them she knew, with a thrill 
of pleasure, the instant she set eyes on them; 
where in the world others could possibly go was 
undoubtedly a serious question. 

“Hello, here comes Andy!” called Just, from 
the window. “Give him a chance at it. Per- 
haps he can use it somewhere in the surgery — as 
a delicate way of cheering the patients when 
they feel as if perhaps they’d better not have 
come.” 

Charlotte turned as the hall door swung open, 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


*57 

admitting Dr. Andrew Churchill and a fresh 
breath of October air. 

Everybody turned about also. Into every- 
body’s face came a look of affectionate greeting. 
Even the eyes of the father and mother — and this, 
just now, was the greatest test of all — showed the 
welcome to which their own children were happily 
used. 

The figure on the threshold was one to claim 
attention anywhere. It was a strong figure with 
a look of life and intense physical vigour. The 
face matched the body: it was fresh-coloured and 
finely molded; and nobody who looked at it and 
into the clear gray eyes of Andrew Churchill 
could fail to. recognise the man behind. 

Lanse, who was nearest, shook hands warmly. 
“It seems good to see you, old fellow,” he 
said, heartily. “If this whirl of work they tell 
me you are in had kept up much longer, I should 
have turned patient myself and sent for you. 
Going to find time to be married in, think, Andy ?” 

“I rather expect to be able to manage it,” re- 
sponded Doctor Churchill, laughing. “How long 
have you been home, Lanse — two hours ? Just 
promised to let me know when you came.” 

“I started, but you were whizzing up the street 
in the runabout,” protested Just, picking up the 
debris of the unpacking and carrying it away. 


i 5 8 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


“There was a trail of steam behind you sixteen 
feet long. I think you were running beyond 
lawful speed.” 

“Here’s your latest acquisition.” Jeff pointed 
it out, picking up the copper slab and holding it 
at the stretch of his arms for inspection. Doctor 
Churchill turned and regarded it with interest. 
Then his bright glance shifted to Charlotte, and he 
smiled at her. 

“That’s great, isn’t it ? ” he said, and she nod- 
ded, smiling. 

Just, returning, shouted. “Trust ’em both to 
get round anything that may turn up ! 4 That’s 
great!’ is certainly safe and non-committal of a 
four-foot motto that’s of no earthly use.” 

“Well, but I like it,” Doctor Churchill as- 
serted, and came over to Charlotte’s side, where 
he examined the copper slab with attention. 
“ Don’t you believe that will pretty nearly fit the 
depression in the fireplace just above the shelf?” 

Her interested look responded to his. 44 Why, 
I believe it will!” she answered. 

“Who sent it?” 

“We can’t find out.” 

44 No card ? That’s odd. But there may be 
something about it to show. It looks to me as 
if it had been made for that place. If it proves to 
fit, we can narrow the mystery down to the few 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


J 59 


people who have seen the new fireplace. Let’s 
go over and try, shall we ? Come on — every- 
body!” 

Accordingly, the whole company streamed out 
across the lawn — Charlotte and Doctor Churchill, 
Celia, her pretty blond head shining in the October 
sunlight, Lanse and Jeff and Just, three stalwart 
fellows, ranging in ages from twenty-six to sixteen, 
Mr. and Mrs. Birch, the happy possessors of this 
happy clan. 

They hurried up the two steps of the small front 
porch, into the brick house, and stampeded into 
the front room. They stopped opposite the fire- 
place, where Doctor Churchill was already trium- 
phantly inserting the copper panel — for that is 
what it instantly became~-in the long, horizontal 
depression in the fireplace. 

“It fits to a hair!” he exclaimed, and a general 
murmur of approbation arose. Now that the 
odd gift was where it so clearly belonged, its pe- 
culiar beauty became evident even to the skeptical 
Jeff and Just. 

The new fireplace was the heart of the little old 
house. Moreover, so cunningly had it been de- 
signed and built that it seemed to have been in its 
place from the beginning. 

Doctor Churchill and Charlotte had made a 
certain distant field the object of many walks and 


160 THE SECOND VIOLIN 

drives, and had personally selected the “hardheads” 
of which the fireplace was constructed. A small 
bedroom, opening off the square little parlour, had 
had its partition removed, and in this alcove-like 
end of the room the fireplace had been built. 

The effect was very good, and the resulting 
apartment, the only one on the lower floor which 
could be spared for general use, had become at 
once the place upon which Charlotte was con- 
centrating most of her efforts, meaning to make it 
a room where everybody should wish to come. 

The usual interruption of a summons for Doctor 
Churchill to the office in the wing sent the as- 
sembled company off again. Just as Charlotte 
was leaving the room, however — the last of all, 
because she could not bring herself to desert the 
joy of the copper panel in its setting of gray stone 
— Doctor Churchill hurriedly returned. 

Seeing Charlotte alone and about to vanish, he 
ran after her and drew her back. 

“ I have to go right away, dear, ” he said. “ But 
I want to look at the new gift alone with you a 
minute. It’s really a fine addition, isn’t it?” 

“Oh, beautiful! In the firelight and the lamp- 
light how that copper will gleam!” 

“ I wish we knew to whom we owe such a thought 
of us. I like the sentiment, too, don’t you, 
Charlotte ? I hope — do you know, it’s one of 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


161 

my pleasantest hopes — that our home is going 
to be one that knows how to dispense hospitality. 
The real sort — not the sham.” 

Charlotte looked up at him and smiled. 

“As if I need tell you what I wish!” he said, 
with gay tenderness. “You know every thought 
I have about it.” 

“We'll make people happy here,” said Char- 
lotte. “Indeed, I want to, Andy Churchill. 
This room — they shall find a welcome always — 
rich and poor. Especially — the poor ones.” 

“Especially the poor ones. Won’t old Mrs. 
Wilsey think it’s pleasant here ? And Tom Bran- 
nigan — he’ll be scared at first, but we’ll show him 
it’s a jolly place — Charlotte, I musn’t get to 
dreaming day-dreams now, or I never can sum- 
mon strength of purpose to wait another week. 
One week from to-day! What an age it seems!” 

“Run and make your calls,” advised Charlotte, 
laughing, as she escaped from him and hurried 
to the door. “The busier you keep, the shorter 
the time will seem.” 

The week went by at last. To the young man, 
one of a large family long since scattered — 
many members of it, including both father and 
mother, in the old Virginia churchyard — the 
time could not come too soon. He had lived 
alone with his housekeeper almost four years now. 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


162 

and during nearly all that time he had been wait- 
ing for Charlotte. 

She was considerably younger than he, and 
when he had been, after two years of acquaint- 
ance, allowed to betroth himself to her, he had 
been asked to wait yet another two years while 
she should “grow up a little more,” as her wise 
father put it. 

As for Charlotte herself, she still seemed to 
those who loved her at home hardly grown up 
enough at twenty-two to go to a home of her 
own. 

Yet father and mother, brothers and sister, 
were all ready to acknowledge that those two years 
had resulted in the early budding of very sweet 
and womanly qualities; and nobody, watching 
Charlotte with her lover, could possibly fear for 
either that they were not ready for the great ex- 
periment. 

The autumn leaves were bright, the white fall 
anemones were in blossom, when Charlotte’s 
wedding-day came; and with leaves and anemones 
the little stone church was decorated. 

Not an invitation of the customary sort had 
been sent out. But, as is usual in a comfortable, 
un-aristocratic suburb, the news that Doctor 
Churchill and Miss Charlotte Birch wanted 
everybody who knew and cared for them to 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 163 

come to the church and see them married had 
spread until all understood. 

The result was that no one of Doctor Church- 
iirs patients — and he had won a large and grow- 
ing practice among all classes of people — felt left 
out or forgotten, and that, as the clock struck the 
hour of noon, the church was crowded to the doors 
with those who were real friends of the young 
people. 

“Somehow I don’t feel a bit like a bride/’ said 
Charlotte, looking, however, very much like one, 
as she stood in the centre of her mother’s room in 
bridal array. 

Four elegant male figures, two in frock coats, 
two in more youthful but equally festive attire, 
were surveying her with satisfaction. 

Near by hovered Celia, the daintiest of maids 
of honour: Mrs. Birch, as charming as a girl her- 
self in her pale gray silken gown: and little Ellen 
Donohue, a six-year-old protegee of the family, 
her hazel eyes wide with gazing at Charlotte, 
whom she hugged intermittently and adored 
without cessation. 

“You don’t feel like a bride, eh ?” was Lanse’s 
reply to Charlotte’s statement. “ Well, I shouldn’t 
think you would — an infant like you. You look 
more suitable for a christening than for a mar- 
riage ceremony. Father’s likely, when Doctor 


I 64 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


Elder asks who gives the bride away, to murmur, 
‘Charlotte Wendell/ thinking he's inquiring the 
child's name." 

Charlotte threw him a glance, half-shy, half- 
merry. “As best man you should be saying com- 
plimentary things about your friend’s choice." 

“I am. The trouble is you're not old enough 
to enjoy being mistaken for a babe in arms." 

“I don't think she looks like a child. I think 
she's the stunningest young woman I ever saw!" 
declared Just, with enthusiasm. “If her hair was 
done up on top of her head she’d be a regular 
queen." 

Celia laughed. Her own beautiful blond locks 
were piled high, and the style became her. But 
Charlotte's dusky braids were prettier low on the 
white neck, in the girlish fashion in which they 
had long been worn, and Celia announced this 
fact with a loving touch on the graceful coiffure 
her own hands had arranged for her sister. 

“You can’t improve her," she said. “She 
looks like our Charlotte, and that's just the way 
we want her to look. That’s what Andy wants, 
too. " 

“Of course he does. And I can tell you, he 
looks like Andy," Lanse asserted. “Did you 
know he’d been making calls all the morning, the 
same as usual ? Made ’em till the last minute, 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


i6 5 


too. It isn’t fifteen minutes since I saw his ma- 
chine roll in. Hope he wasn’t rattled when he 
wrote his prescriptions.” 

It was the Birches’ custom to make as little as 
possible of family crises. Talk and laugh as 
lightly as they would, however, every one of them 
was watching Charlotte with anxiety, for it was 
the first break in the dear circle, and it seemed al- 
most as if they could have better spared any other. 

Yet Charlotte was going to live no farther away 
than next door — this was the comfort of the 
situation. 

“Well, I must be off to look after my duties to 
the groom,” Lanse announced presently, with a 
precautionary glance into his mother’s mirror to 
make sure that not a hair of his splendour was 
disturbed. “ I ought to have been with him before 
this, only my infatuation for the bride makes my 
case difficult. You’ve heard of these fellows who 
hang about another chap’s girl till the last minute, 
doing the forsaken act. I feel something like 
that. Good luck, little girl. Keep cool, and 
trust Andy and Doctor Elder to get you safely 
married.” 

He stooped to kiss her, and Charlotte held him 
close for an instant. But he made the brotherly 
embrace a short one, comprehending that much 
of that sort of thing would be unsafe both for 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


166 

Charlotte and her family, and went gaily away 
to the house next door. 

“ Nerve good?” Lanse asked Doctor Church- 
ill, an hour later as they waited in the vestry for 
the summons of the organ. 

Doctor Churchill smiled. “ Pretty steady,” 
he answered. “ Still — Em aware something is 
about to happen.” 

Lanse eyed him affectionately. 

“Do you know it’s a good deal to me to be gain- 
ing three brothers by this day’s work ?” the doctor 
aJded*, and Lanse felt a sudden lump in his throat, 
which he had to swallow before he could 
answer: 

“I assure you we’re feeling pretty rich, to-day, 
too, old fellow.” 

It was all over presently — a very simple, natural 
sort of affair, with the warm October sunlight 
streaming through the richly coloured windows 
upon the figures at the altar, touching Celia’s 
bright hair into a halo, and sending a ruby beam 
across the trailing folds of Charlotte’s bridal gown. 

There was no display of any sort. The whole 
effect was somehow that of a girl being married 
in the enclosing circle of her family, without 
thought of the hundreds of eyes upon her. A 
quiet wedding breakfast followed, at which Doc- 
tor Forester and his son, the latter lately returned 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


167 


from a long period of study abroad, were the only 
guests. Doctor Churchill's housekeeper, Mrs. 
Fields, although invited to be present as a guest, 
insisted on remaining in the kitchen. 

“Just as if,” she said, when everybody in turn 
remonstrated with her, “when Fve looked after 
that boy’s food from the days when he ate nothing 
but porridge and milk, I was going to let anybody 
else feed him with his wedding breakfast!” 

But this part of the business of getting married 
was also soon over. Doctor Churchill was to 
take his bride away for a month’s stay in a little 
Southern resort among the mountains, dear to 
him by old association. It was the first vacation 
he had allowed himself during these four years of 
his practice, and his eyes had been sparkling as he 
planned it. They were sparkling again now, as 
he stood waiting for Charlotte to say good-bye 
and come away with him, but his face spoke his 
sympathetic understanding of those who were 
finding this the hardest moment which had yet 
come to them. 

“Take care of her, Andy,” was what, in almost 
the same words, they all more or less brokenly 
said to him at last; and to each and all he an- 
swered, in that way of his they loved and trusted, 
“I will.” 

F rom Andrew Churchill it was assurance enough. 


CHAPTER II 


T HERE ! Doesn’t that look like a ‘Welcome 
Home’?” 

Celia stood in the doorway and surveyed her 
handiwork. Mrs. Birch, from an opposite thresh- 
old, nodded, smiling. 

“It does, indeed. You have given the whole 
house a festival air which will captivate Andy’s 
heart the instant he sets eyes on it. As for our 
little Charlotte ” 

She paused, as if it were not easy to put into 
words that which she knew Charlotte would think. 
But Celia went on gleefully: 

“Charlotte will be so crazy with delight at get- 
ting home she will see everything through a blur 
at first. But when we have all gone away and 
left them here, then Charlotte will see. And 
she’ll be glad to find traces of her devoted family 
wherever she looks.” 

She pointed from the little work-box on the table 
by the window, just equipped and placed there by 
her mother’s hand, to the book-shelf made and 
put up in the corner by Jeff. She waved her hand 
at a great wicker armchair with deep pockets at 
1 68 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 169 

the sides for newspapers and magazines, which 
had been Mr. Birch’s contribution to the living- 
room, and at the fine calendar which Just had 
hung by the desk. Her own offerings were the 
dressing-table furnishings up-stairs. 

All these were by no means wedding gifts, but 
afterthoughts, inspired by a careful inspection of 
the details of Doctor Churchill’s bachelor home, 
and the noting of certain gaps which only love and 
care would be likely to fill. 

In four hours now the travellers would be at 
home, in time, it was expected, for the late dinner 
being prepared by Mrs. Hepzibah Fields. 

For the present, at least, Mrs. Fields was to 
remain. “I’ve had full proof of Charlotte’s 
ability to cook and to manage a house,” Doctor 
Churchill had said, when they talked it over, “and 
I want her free this first year, anyway, to work 
with her brush and pencil all she likes, and to go 
about with me all I like.” 

Mrs. Fields, although a product of New Eng-, 
land, had spent nearly half her life in Virginia, in 
the service of the Churchills. She had drawn a 
slow breath of relief when this decision had been 
made known to her, and had said fervently to 
Doctor Churchill : 

“I expect I know how to make myself useful 
without being conspicuous, and I’m sure I think 


170 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


enough of both of you not to put my foot into your 
housekeeping. That child’s worked pretty hard 
these four years since Eve known her, and a 
little vacation won’t hurt her.” 

So it had been settled, and Mrs. Fields was now 
getting up a dinner for her “folks,” as she affection- 
ately termed them, which was to be little short of a 
feast. 

Charlotte had written that she and Andy wanted 
the whole family to come to dinner with them that 
first night. All day Celia and her mother had been 
busy getting the little house, already in perfect 
order, into that state of decorative cheer which 
suggests a welcome in itself. Now, with Just’s off- 
ering of ground-pine, and Celia’s scarlet carnations 
all about the room, a fire ready laid in the fire- 
place, and lamps and candles waiting to be lighted 
on every side, there seemed nothing to be desired. 

“I supose there’s really not another thing we 
can do,” said Celia. 

“Absolutely nothing more, that I can see,” 
agreed Mrs. Birch, taking up her wraps from the 
chair on which they lay. “You can run over and 
light up at the last minute. Really, how long it 
seems yet to seven o’clock!” 

“ Doesn’t it ? And how good it will be to get the 
dear girl back! Well, the first month has gone 
by, mother dear. The worst is over.” 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


171 

Celia spoke cheerfully, but her words were not 
quite steady. Mrs. Birch glanced at her. 

“You’ve been a brave daughter,” she said, with 
the quiet composure which Celia understood did 
not always cover a peaceful heart. “We shall all 
grow used to the change in time. I think some- 
times we’re not half thankful enough to have 
Charlotte so near.” 

“Oh, I think we are!” Celia protested. 

“The children have had a beautiful month 
Haven’t their letters been — What’s that?” 

It was nothing more startling than the front door- 
bell, but this was so seldom rung at the bachelor 
doctor’s house, where everybody who wanted him 
at all wanted him professionally at the office, that 
it sent Celia hastily and anxiously to the door. It 
was so impossible at this hour, when the travellers 
were almost home, not to dread the happening of 
something to detain them. At the same moment 
Mrs. Field put her head in at the dining-room 
door. “Land, I do hope it ain’t a telegram!” she 
observed, in a loud whisper. 

It was not a telegram. It was a pale-faced little 
woman in black, with two children, a boy and a girl, 
beside her. Celia looked at them questioningly. 

“This is Doctor Churchill’s, isn’t it ?” asked the 
stranger, with a hesitating foot upon the thresh- 
old. “Is he at home ?” 


172 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


“He is expected home — he will be in his office 
to-morrow,” Celia answered, thinking this a new 
patient, and feeling justified in keeping Doctor 
Churchill’s first evening clear for him if she could. 
But the visitor drew a sigh of relief, and came over 
the threshold, drawing her children with her. 
Celia gave way, but the question in her face 
brought the explanation: 

“I reckon it’s all right, if he’s coming so soon. 
I’m his cousin, Mrs. Peyton. These are my 
children. I haven’t seen Andrew since he was a 
boy at college, but he’ll remember me. Are 
you ” She hesitated. 

Mrs. Birch came forward. “We are the mother 
and sister of Mrs. Churchill,” she said, and offered 
her hand. “Doctor Churchill was expecting 
you?” 

“Well, maybe not just at this time,” admitted 
the newcomer, without reluctance. “I didn’t 
know I was coming myself until just as I bought 
my ticket for home. I happened to think I was 
within sixty miles of that place in the North 
where I knew Andrew settled. So I thought we’d 
better stop and see him and his new wife.” 

There was nothing to do but to usher her in. 
With a rebellious heart Celia led Mrs. Peyton 
into the living-room and assisted her and the chil- 
dren out of their wrappings. All sorts of strange 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


i73 


ideas were occurring to her. It was within the 
bounds of possibility that these people were not 
what they claimed to be — she had heard of such 
things. She was unwilling to show them to 
Charlotte’s pretty guest-room, to offer them re- 
freshment, even to light the fire for them. 

It was too bad, it was unbearable, that the home- 
coming for which she and her mother had made 
such preparation should be spoiled by the presence 
of these strangers. To be sure, if she was An- 
drew’s cousin she was no stranger to him, yet 
Celia could not recollect that he had ever spoken 
of her, even in the most casual way. 

But her hope that in some way this might prove 
to be a case of mistaken identity was soon ex- 
tinguished. When she had slipped away to the 
kitchen, at a suggestion from her mother that the 
guests should be served with something to eat, she 
found that information concerning Mrs. Peyton 
was to be had from Mrs. Fields. 

“Peyton? For the lands’ sake! Don’t tell me 
she’s here! Know her? I guess I do! Of all the 
unfortunate things to happen right now, I should 
consider her about the worst calamity. What is 
she ? Oh, she ain’t anything — that’s about the 
worst I can say of her. There ain’t anything bad 
about her — oh, no. Sometimes I’ve been driven 
to wish there was, if I do say it! She’s just what I 


*74 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


should call one of them characterless sort of 
folks — kind of soft and silly, like a silk sofy cushion 
without enough stuffing in it. Always talking, she 
is, without saying anything in particular. I don't 
know about the children. They were little things 
when I saw 'em last. What do you say they look 
like?" 

“The girl is about fourteen, I should think," 
said Celia, getting out tray and napkins. “She's 
rather a pretty child — doesn't look very strong. 
The boy is quite a handsome fellow, of nine or 
ten. Oh, it's all right, of course, and I’ve no 
doubt Doctor Churchill will be glad to see any 
relatives of his family. Only — if it needn't have 
happened just to-day!" 

“I know how you feel," said the housekeeper. 
“Here, let me fix that tray, Miss Celia; you've 
done enough. I suppose we've got to feed 'em 
and give 'em a room. Ain't it too bad to put them 
in that nice spare room ? No, I don't believe the 
doctor'll be powerful pleased to see 'em, though I 
don't suppose he'll let on he ain't. Trouble is, 
she's a stayer — one of the visiting kind, you know. 
Mis' Churchill, doctor's mother, used to have her 
there by the month. There was what you may 
call a genuine lady, Miss Celia. She'd never let 
a guest feel he wasn't welcome, and I guess Andy — I 
guess the doctor's pretty much like her. Well, well ! " 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


i75 


Mrs. Fields sighed, and Celia echoed the sigh. 
Nevertheless, the little hint about Doctor Church- 
ill’s mother took hold. 

Celia knew what Southern hospitality meant. 
If Mrs. Peyton had been accustomed to that, it 
must be a matter of pride not to let her feel that 
Northern homes were cold and comfortless places 
by comparison. By the time she had shown the 
visitors to Charlotte’s guest-room, and had made 
up a bed for the boy on a wide couch there, Celia 
had worked off a little of her regret. Nevertheless, 
when Jeff and Just heard the news, their disgust 
roused her to fresh rebellion. 

“I call that pretty nervy,” Jeff declared, indig- 
nantly, “to walk in on people like this, without 
a word of warning! Nobody but an idiot would - 
expect people just coming home from their honey- 
moon to want to find their house filled up with 
cousins.” 

“Oh, Andy’s relatives ’ll turn up now,” said 
Just, cynically. “People he never heard of. I’ll 
bet he won’t know this woman till he’s intro- 
duced.” 

“Yes, he will. I’ve found her name on the list 
we sent announcements to,” Celia said, dismally. 
“I didn’t notice at the time, because there were 
ever so many friends of his, people in all parts of 
the world. ‘Mrs. Randolph Peyton,’ that’s it.” 


176 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


“Hope Mr. Randolph Peyton’ll get anxious to 
see her, and send for her to come home at once!” 
growled Jeff. 

“ She’s in mourning. I presume she’s a widow, ” 
was all the comfort Celia could give him. 

“Then she’ll stay all winter!” cried Just with 
such hopeless inflection that his sister laughed. 

When she went over at half past six o’clock, to 
light the fire, she found the three visitors gathered 
in the living-room. She had hoped they might 
stay up-stairs at least until the first welcome had 
been given to Charlotte and Andrew. But it 
turned out that Mrs. Peyton had inquired of Mrs. 
Fields the exact hour of the expected arrival, and 
presumably had considered that since the Peytons 
represented Doctor Churchill’s side of the house, 
their part in his welcome home was not to be 
gainsaid. 

Mr. Birch, Jeff, Just, and Mrs. Birch with little 
Ellen, presently appeared. Lansing had gone back 
to his law school, but a great bunch of roses rep- 
resented him. It had been Charlotte’s express 
command that nobody should go to the station to 
meet the returning travellers, but that everybody 
should be in the little brick house to welcome 
them when they should drive up. 

“Here they are! Here they are!” shouted Just, 
from behind a window curtain, where he had 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


177 


been keeping close watch on the circle of radi- 
ance from the nearest arc-light. There was a 
rush for the door. Jeff flung it open, and he and 
Just raced to the hansom which was driving up. 
The rest of the party crowded the doorway, Mrs. 
Peyton and Lucy and Randolph being of the 
group. 

“How are you, everybody ?” called Doctor 
Churchill’s eager voice, as he and Charlotte ran 
up the walk to the door, Jeff and Just following. 
“Well, this is fine! Father — mother — Celia — my 
little Ellen — bless your hearts, but it’s good to see 
you!” 

How could anybody help loving a son-in-law 
like that ? One would have thought they were 
indeed his own. While Charlotte remained 
wrapped in her mother’s embrace, Doctor Church- 
ill was greeting them all twice over, with appar- 
ently no eyes for the three he had not expected to 
see. For the moment it was plain that he had not 
recognized them, and supposed them to be 
strangers to whom he would presently be made 
known. 

But now, as somebody moved aside and the 
light struck upon her, he caught the smile on Mrs. 
Peyton’s face. He left off shaking Jeff’s hand, 
and made a quick movement toward the little 
figure in black. 


i ?8 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


“Why, Cousin Lula!” he exclaimed. 

Charlotte, at the moment hugging little Ellen 
with laughter and kisses, turned at the cry, and 
saw her husband greeting with great cordiality 
these strange people whom she, too, had supposed 
to be the guests of her mother. 

“Charlotte,” said Doctor Churchill, turning 
about, “this is my cousin, Mrs. Peyton, of Vir- 
ginia — and her children.” 

Charlotte came forward, cordially greeted Mrs. 
Peyton and Lucy and Randolph, and led them into 
the living-room as if the moment were that of their 
arrival instead of her own. 

“She has the stuff in her, hasn’t she?” mur- 
mured Just to Jeff, as the two stood at one side 
of the fireplace. 

“Could you ever doubt it ?” returned Jeff, with 
as much emphasis as can be put into a mumbled 
retort. Jeffhad been Charlotte’s staunchest cham- 
pion all his life. 

“Ah, Fieldsy, but I’m glad to be back!” Doctor 
Churchill assured his housekeeper, in the kitchen, 
to which he had soon found his way. “We’ve 
had a glorious time down in the Virginia moun- 
tains, but this is home now, as it never was before, 
and it’s great fun to be here. How are you ? 
You’re looking fine.” 

“And I’m feeling fine,” assented Mrs. Fields, 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


m 


her spare face lighted into something like real 
comeliness by the pleasure in her heart. “Just 
one thing, Doctor Andy. Pm terrible sorry them 
relatives of yours happened along just now. If 
Pd gone to the door — well — I don’t believe but 
Pd have seen my way clear to ” 

Churchill shook his head, smiling. “ No, 
Fieldsy, you know you wouldn’t. Besides, Cousin 
Lula looks far from well, and she’s had a lot of 
trouble. It’s all right, you know. My, but this 
is a good dinner we have coming to us!” 

He went off gaily. Mrs. Fields looked after 
him affectionately. 

“Oh, yes, Andy Churchill, it’s plain to be seen 
your heart’s in the right place as much as ever it 
was, if you have got married,” she thought. 

“O Fieldsy,” — and this time it was Charlotte 
who invaded the kitchen and grasped the house- 
keeper’s hands — “how good it seems to be back! 
But I can’t realise a bit Pm at home over here, 
can you ?” 

“You’ll soon get used to it, I guess, Mis’ Church- 
ill.” 

“Oh, and that sounds strange — from you!” 
declared Charlotte, laughing. “Pd begun to get 
a little bit used to it down in Virginia. If you 
don’t say ‘Miss Charlotte’ once in a while to me 
I shall feel quite lost.” 


i8o 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


“I guess Doctor Churchill ’d have something 
to say about that, if I should. I don’t believe 
but what he’s terrible proud of that name.” 

It was certainly a name nobody seemed able 
to “get used to.” Just called his sister by the new 
title once during the evening. They were at the 
table when he thus addressed her, and there fol- 
lowed a succession of comments. 

“ Don’t you dare call her that when I’m round ! ” 
remarked Jeff. 

“I actually didn’t understand at first whom you 
meant,” said Celia. 

“ I’ve not forgotten how long it took me to learn 
that my name was Birch,” said Charlotte’s mother, 
with a smile so bright that it covered the involun- 
tary sigh. 

“ Is Aunty Charlotte my Aunty Churchill now ?” 
piped little Ellen. Lucy and Randolph Peyton 
laughed. 

“Of course, she is, dumpling, only you can keep 
on calling her Aunty Charlotte. And I’m your 
Uncle Andy. How do you like that ?” 

“Oh, I like that!” agreed Ellen, and edged her 
chair an inch nearer “Uncle Andy.” 

Dinner over, Celia bore Ellen home to bed. 
Charlotte suggested the same possibility for the 
Peyton children, but although it was nearing nine 
o’clock, both refused so decidedly that after a glance 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 181 

at their mother, who took no notice, Charlotte said 
no more. 

Randolph grew sleepy in his chair, and Doctor 
Churchill presently took pity on him. He sat 
down beside the lad and told him a story of so 
intentionally monotonous a character that Ran- 
dolph was soon half over the border. Then the 
doctor picked him up, and with the drooping head 
on his shoulder observed, pleasantly: 

“This lad wants his bed, Cousin Lula. May I 
take him to it?” 

Mrs. Peyton, engaged in telling Mr. Birch her 
opinion of certain Northern institutions she had 
lately observed, nodded absently. Doctor Church- 
ill ascended the stairs, and Charlotte, slipping 
from the room, ran up ahead of him to get Ran- 
dolph’s cot in readiness. 

“That’s it, old fellow! Wake up enough to let 
me get your clothes off,” Churchill bade the sleep- 
heavy child. “Can you find his nightclothes, 
Charlotte ? Cousin Lula seems to have unpacked. 
That’s it. Thank you! Now, Ran, you’ll be glad 
to be in bed, won’t you ? Can you wake up enough 
to say your prayers, son ? No ? Well that’s not 
altogether your fault,” he said, softly, and smiled 
at Charlotte. “ I think we’d better invite Lucy up, 
too, don’t you?” 

“Won’t she — Mrs. Peyton — think we’re rather 


182 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


cool?” Charlotte suggested, as they tucked the 
boy in. 

“Not a bit. She'll be glad to have the job off 
her hands. The youngsters are tired, and ought 
to have been in bed an hour ago. Stay here, and 
I'll run down after Lucy.” 

On the stairs, as they descended, after Char- 
lotte had seen Lucy to her quarters, they met Jeff. 

“Been putting the kids to bed ?” he questioned 
curiously, under his breath. “Well, you’re great. 
Their mother doesn’t seem much worried about it. 
She’s quite a talker. Guess she didn’t notice what 
happened. Say, I’m going. It’s ten o’clock. 
You two ought to have a chance to look ’round 
without any more company to-night. Justin 
slipped off while you were up-stairs. Told me to 
say good-night. Father and mother are only 
waiting for a pause in your cousin’s conversation 
long enough to throw in a word of their own before 
they get up.” He made an expressive gesture. 

“You know mother’s invariable rule,” he 
chuckled, “never to get up to go at the end of one 
of your guest’s conversational sprints, but always to 
wait until you can interrupt yourself, so to speak. 
Well — I don’t mean any disrespect to the lady 
from Virginia, Andy, but I’m afraid mother’ll 
have to make an exception to that rule, or else 
remain for the night.” 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


183 

The three laughed softly, Charlotte’s hand on 
her brother’s shoulder, as she stood on the step 
above him. 

“You mustn’t say any saucy things, Jeffy,” 
said she, with a soft touch on his thick locks. 

“I won’t. I’m too tickled to have you back — 
both of you. We missed Fiddle pretty badly,” 
he said to Doctor Churchill, “but we found time to* 
miss you almost as much. There have been 
several times while you’ve been gone that I’d have 
welcomed the chug of your runabout under my 
window, waking me up in the middle of the 
night.” 

“Thank you, old fellow!” said Doctor Churchill 
with a hand on Jeff’s other shoulder. “That’s 
mighty pleasant to hear.” 

In spite of Jeff’s prediction, Mrs. Birch soon 
managed, in her own tactful way, to follow her 
sons home. Mrs. Peyton went up to her room at 
last, a cordial good night, following her from the 
foot of the stairs. Then Doctor Churchill drew 
his wife back into the living-room and closed the 
doors. He stood looking at Charlotte with eyes 
in which were mingled merriment and tenderness. 

“It wasn’t just as we planned it, was it, little 
girl?” he said. “But there’s always this to fall 
back upon. People we want, and people we don’t 
want so much, may be around us, to the right of us, 


184 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


and the left of us, but even so, nobody can ever 
— come between.” 

The door-bell rang. 

“Oh, I hoped nobody would know you were 
home to-night!’ cried Charlotte, the smile fading 
from her lips. Doctor Churchill went quickly to 
the door. A messenger boy with a telegram stood 
outside. The doctor read the dispatch and dis- 
missed the boy. Then he turned to Charlotte. 

“No, it’s no bad news,” he said, and came close. 
“It’s just — can you bear up ? — another impending 
guest! Charlotte, I’ve done a lot of talking about 
hospitality, and I meant it all. I certainly want 
our latch-string always out, but — don't you think 
we rushed that copper motto into place just a bit 
too soon?" 


CHAPTER III 


/CHARLOTTE, what are we going to do ? 

It turns out Lee has his sister with him!” 

Mrs. Andrew Churchill, engaged in making up 
a fresh bed with linen smelling faintly of lavender, 
dropped her sheets and blankets and stood up 
straight. She gazed across the room at Andy, 
whose face expressed both amusement and dismay. 

“Andy,” said she, “haven’t I somewhere 
heard a proverb to the effect that it never rains 
but it pours ?” 

“There’s an impression on my mind that you 
have,” said her husband. “You are now about 
to have a practical demonstration of that same 
proverb. I wrote Lee, as you suggested after his 
second telegram, and this is his answer. He was 
detained by the illness of his sister Evelyn, who is 
with him. It seems she was at school up here in 
our state, but overworked and finally broke down, 
and he has come to take her home. But you 
see home for them means a boarding-house. 
The family is broken up, mother dead, father at 
the ends of the earth; and Lee has Evelyn on his 
hands. The worst of it is, he wants me to see her 


i86 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


professionally, so I can’t very well suggest that 
we’re too full to entertain her.” 

“Of course you can’t,” agreed Charlotte, 
promptly. “But it means that we must find 
another room somewhere in the house. Of 
course mother would — but I don’t want to begin 
right away to send extra guests over there.” 

“Neither do I,” said Doctor Churchill. “Do 
you suppose we could put a cot into my private 
office for Lee ? Then the sister could have this.” 

“How old is she?” 

“Sixteen, he says.” 

“Oh, then this will do. And we can put a cot 
in your private office — after office hours. If Mr. 
Lee is an old friend he won’t object to anything.” 

“You’re a dear girl! And they won’t stay long, 
of course — especially when they see how crowded 
we are. You’ll like Thorne Lee, Charlotte; he’s 
one of the best fellows alive. I haven’t seen the 
sister since she was a small child, but if she’s any- 
thing like her brother you’ll have no trouble enter- 
taining her, sick or well. All right! I’ll answer 
Lee’s letter, and say nothing about our being 
full-up.” 

“Of course not; that wouldn’t be hospitality. 
When will they come ?” 

“In a day or two — as soon as she ?eels like 
travelling again.” 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 187 

“Ell be ready for her,” and Charlotte gave him 
her brightest smile as he hurried off. 

She finished her bed-making, put the little room 
set apart for her own private den into guest-room 
condition as nearly as it was possible to do with 
articles of furniture borrowed from next door, and 
went down to break the news to Mrs. Fields. She 
found that person explaining with grim patience 
to the Peyton children why they could not make 
candy in her kitchen at the inopportune hour of 
ten in the morning. 

“But we always do at home!” complained 
Lucy, with a frown. 

“Like as not you don’t clear up the muss after- 
ward, either,” suggested Mrs. Fields, with a 
sharp look. 

“Course we don’t,” Randolph asserted, with a 
curl of his handsome upper lip. “ What’s servants 
for, I’d like to know?” 

“To make friends with, not to treat impolitely,” 
said a clear voice behind the boy. 

Randolph and Lucy turned quickly, and Mrs. 
Fields’s face, which had grown grim, softened 
perceptibly. Both children looked ready to make 
some tart reply to Charlotte’s interpolation, but 
as their eyes fell upon her they discovered that to 
be impossible. How could one speak rudely when 
one met that kind but authoritative glance ? 


i88 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


“This is Mrs. Fields’s busiest time, you know,” 
Charlotte said, “and it wouldn’t do to bother her 
now with making candy. In the afternoon Til 
help you make it. Come, suppose we go for a 
walk. I’ve some marketing to do.” 

“Ran can go with you.” said Lucy, as Char- 
lotte proceeded to make ready for the trip. “It’s 
too cold for me. I’d rather stay here by the 
fire and read.” 

Charlotte looked at her. Lucy’s delicate face 
was paler than usual this morning; she had a 
languid air. 

“The walk in this fresh November breeze will 
be sure to make you feel ever so much better,” 
said Charlotte. “Don’t you think so, Cousin 
Lula?” 

Mrs. Peyton looked up reluctantly from her 
embroidery. 

“Why, I wouldn’t urge her, Charlotte, if she 
doesn’t want to go,” she said, with a glance at 
Lucy, who was leaning back in a big chair with a 
discontented expression. “You mustn’t expect 
people from the South to enjoy your freezing 
weather as you seem to. Lucy feels the cold 
very much.” 

Charlotte and Randolph marched away down 
the street together, the boy as full of spirits as his 
companion. 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 189 

She had found it easy from the first to make 
friends with him, and was beginning, in spite of 
certain rather unpleasant qualities of his, to like 
him very much. His mother had done her best 
to spoil him, yet the child showed plainly that 
there was in him the material for a sturdy, strong 
character. 

When Charlotte had made several small pur- 
chases at the market, she did not offer to give Ran- 
dolph the little wicker basket she carried, but the 
boy took it from her with a smile and a proud 
air. 

“Ran,” said Charlotte, “just round this corner 
there’s a jolly hill. I don’t believe anybody will 
mind if we have a race down it, do you ?” 

It was a back street, and the hill was an invit- 
ing one. The two had their race, and Randolph 
won by a yard. Just as the pair, laughing and 
panting, slowed down into their ordinary pace, a 
runabout, driven by a smiling young man in a 
heavy ulster and cap, turned the corner with a 
rush. Amid a cloud of steam the motor came to 
a standstill. 

“ Aha ! Caught you at it ! ” cried Doctor Church- 
ill. “Came down that hill faster than the law 
allows. Get in here, both of you, and take the 
run out to the hospital with me. I shall not be 
there long. I’ve been out once this morning. 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


190 

This is just to make sure of a case I operated on 
two hours ago.” 

“Shall we, Ran?” asked Charlotte. 

“Oh, let’s!” said the boy, with enthusiasm. 
So away they went. The result of the expedition 
came out later in the day. Before dinner the 
entire household was grouped about the fire, 
Doctor Churchill having just come in, after one 
of his busiest days. 

“ Been out to the hospital again, Cousin Andy ? ” 
Ran asked. 

“Yes; twice since the noon visit.” 

“How was the little boy with the broken waist ?” 

“Fractured hip? Just about as you saw him. 
He’s got to be patient a good while before he can 
walk again, and these first few days are hard. He 
asked me when you would come again.” 

“Oh, I’ll go to-morrow!” cried Randolph, 
sitting up very straight on his cushion. “And 
I’ll take him a book I’ve got, with splendid pic- 
tures.” 

“Good!” Doctor Churchill laid a hand on the 
boy’s thick locks. “That will please him im- 
mensely.” 

Mrs. Peyton was looking at him with dismay. 
“Do I understand you have taken him to a hos- 
pital ?” she asked. 

Doctor Churchill nodded. “To the boys’ sur- 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


191 

gical ward. Nothing contagious admitted to the 
hospital. It’s a wonderful pleasure to the little 
chaps to see a boy from outside, and Ran enjoyed 
it, too, didn’t you ?” 

“Oh, it was jolly!” said the boy. 

“ I shouldn’t think that was exactly the word to 
describe such a spot,” said Mrs. Peyton, and she 
looked displeased. “I think there are quite 
enough sad sights in the world for his young eyes 
without taking him into the midst of suffering. 
I should not have permitted it if you had con- 
sulted me.” 

It was true that Doctor Churchill possessed a 
frank and boyish face, wearing ordinarily an ex- 
ceedingly genial expression; but the friendly gray 
eyes were capable of turning steely upon pro- 
vocation, and they turned that way now. He 
returned his cousin’s look with one which con- 
cealed with some difficulty both surprise and dis- 
gust. 

“I took Ran nowhere that he would see any 
extreme suffering,” he explained. “This ward 
contains only convalescents from various injuries 
and operations. The graver cases are elsewhere, 
and he saw nothing of those. A visit to this ward 
is likely to excite sympathy, it is true, but not 
sympathy of a painful sort. The boys have very 
good times among themselves, after a limited 


192 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


fashion, and I think Ran had a good time with 
them. How about it, Ran ?” 

“Oh, I did! I taught two of ’em to play 
waggle-finger. Their legs were hurt, but their 
hands were all right, and they could play waggle- 
finger as well as anybody. They liked it.” 

“Nevertheless, Randolph is of a very sensitive 
and delicate make-up,” pursued his mother, “and 
I don’t think such associations good for him. He 
moaned in his sleep last night, and I couldn’t 
think what it could be.” 

“It couldn’t have been the candy we made this 
afternoon, could it, Cousin Lula?” Charlotte 
asked, in her gentlest way. A comprehending 
smile touched the corners of Doctor Churchill’s lips. 

“Why, of course not!” said Mrs. Peyton, 
quickly. “Candy made this afternoon — how 
absurd, Charlotte! It was last night his sleep was 
disturbed.” 

“But the hospital visit was this morning,” 
Charlotte said. “I should think the one might as 
easily be responsible as the other.” 

Mrs. Peyton looked confused. “I understood 
you to say the visit to the hospital occurred yester- 
day,” she said, with dignity, and Doctor Churchill 
smothered his amusement. “I certainly do not 
approve of taking children to such places,” she 
repeated. 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


*93 


Charlotte adroitly turned the conversation into 
other channels, and nothing more was said about 
hospitals just then. Only the boy, when he had 
a chance, whispered in Doctor Churchill’s ear: 

“You just wait. I’ll tease her into it.” 

His cousin smiled back at him and shook his 
head. “Teasing’s a mighty poor way of getting 
things, Ran,” he said. “Leave it to me.” 

Toward the end of the following day Jeff, 
crossing the lawn at his usual rapid pace, was 
hailed from Doctor Churchill’s office door by Mrs. 
Fields. The housekeeper waved a telegram as he 
approached. 

“Here, Mr. Jeff,” said she. “Would you 
mind opening this ? There ain’t a soul in the 
house, and I don’t want to take such a liberty, 
but it ought to be read. I make no manner of 
doubt it’s from those extry visitors that are com- 
ing.” 

“Where are they all?” Jeff lingered the en- 
velope reluctantly. “I don’t like opening other 
people’s messages.” 

“ I don’t know where they are, that’s it. Doc- 
tor took Miss Charlotte and Ranny off after lunch 
in his machine, and Mis’ Peyton and Lucy have 
gone to town with your mother. Doctor Andy 
wouldn’t like it if his friends came without any- 
body to meet ’em,” 


194 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


Jeff tore open the dispatch. “The first two 
words will tell me, I suppose,” he said. “Hello 
— yes, you’re right! They’ll be here on the 
five-ten. That’s” — he pulled out his watch — 
“why, there’s barely time to get to the station now! 
This must have been delayed. You say you 
don’t know where anybody is ?” 

“Not a soul. Doctor usually leaves word, but 
he didn’t this time.” 

“I’ll telephone the hospital,” and Jeff hurried 
to Doctor Churchill’s desk. In a minute he had 
learned that the doctor had come and gone for the 
last time that day. He looked at Mrs. Fields. 

“You’ll have to go, Mr. Jeff,” said she. “I 
know Doctor Andy’s ways. He’d as soon let 
company go without their dinners as not be on 
hand when their train came in. He wasn’t ex- 
pecting the Lees till to-morrow.” 

“Of course,” said Jeff, “I’ll go, since there’s 
lobody else. How am I to know ’em ? Young 
man and sick girl? All right, that’s easy,” and 
he was off to catch a car at the corner. 

As he rode into town, however, he was rebelling 
against the situation. “This guest business is 
being overdone, ” he observed to himself. “ These 
people are probably some more off the Peyton 
piece of cloth. An invalid girl lying round on 
couches for Fiddle to wait on — another Lucy, 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


195 


probably, only worse, because she’s ill. Well, 
I’m not going to be any more cordial than the 
law calls for. Til have to bring ’em out in a car- 
riage, I suppose. She’ll be too limp for the trolley.” 

He reached the station barely in time to engage 
a carriage before the train came in. He took up 
his position inside the gates through which all 
passengers must pass from the train-shed into the 
great station. 

“ Looking for somebody?” asked a voice at 
his elbow. 

He glanced quickly down at one of his old 
schoolmates, Carolyn Houghton. “Yes, guests 
of the Churchills,” he answered, his gaze in- 
stantly returning to the throng pouring toward 
him from the train. “Help me, will you? I 
don’t know them from Adam. It’s a man and 
his invalid sister, old friends of Andy’s.” 

“There they are, ’’said Carolyn, promptly, in- 
dicating an approaching pair. 

Jeff laughed. “The sister isn’t quite so antique 
as that,” he objected, as a little woman of fifty 
wavered past on the arm of a stout gentleman. 

“You said ‘old’ friends,” retorted Carolyn. 
“Look, Jeff, isn’t that she? The sister’s being 
wheeled in a chair by a porter, the brother’s walk- 
ing beside her. They look like Doctor Churchill’s 
friends, Jeff.” 


196 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


‘'Think you can tell Andy's friends by their 
uniform ?" 

“You can tell anybody's intimate friends in a 
crowd — I mean the same kind of people look 
alike," asserted Carolyn, with emphasis “These 
are the ones, I'm sure. I'll just watch while 
you greet (them and then I’ll slip off. I’m 
taking this next train. What a sweet face that 
girl has, but how delicate — like a little flower. 
She’s a dear, I'm sure. The brother looks nice, 
too. They're the ones, I know. See, the brother's 
looking hard at us all inside the gates." 

“Here goes, then. Good-by!" Jeff turned 
away to the task of making himself known to 
the strangers. But he was forced to admit that 
if Charlotte must meet another onslaught of 
visitors, these certainly did look attractive. 

“Yes, I'm Thorne Lee," the young man an- 
swered, with a straight look into Jeff’s eyes and 
a grasp of the outstretched hand as Jeff intro- 
duced himself. He motioned the porter to wheel 
the chair out of the pressing crowd. 

Jeff explained about the delayed telegram. Mr. 
Lee presented him to the young girl in the chair, 
and Jeff looked down into a pair of hazel eyes 
which instantly claimed his sympathy, the shad- 
ows of fatigue lay on them so heavily. But Miss 
Evelyn Lee's smile was bright if fleeting, and she 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


i97 


answered Jeff’s announcement that he had a car- 
riage waiting with so appreciative a word of grati- 
tude that he found his preconceived antipathy to 
Doctor Churchill’s guests slipping away. 

So presently he had them in a carriage and 
bowling through the streets which led toward the 
suburbs. Thorne Lee sat beside his sister, sup- 
porting her, and talked with Jeff. By the time 
they had covered the long drive to the house Jeff 
was hoping Lee would stay a month. 

The hazel eyes of Lee’s young sister had closed 
and the lashes lay wearily sweeping the pale cheeks 
as the carriage drove up. 

“Are we there?” Lee asked, bending over the 
slight figure. “Open your eyes, dear.” 

Jeff jumped out and ran to the house. He 
burst in upon Charlotte and Andy. “Your 
friends are here!” he shouted. “I had to meet 
’em myself.” 

Doctor Churchill and Charlotte were at the 
door before the words were out of Jeff’s mouth, 
and in a moment more Andy was lifting Evelyn 
Lee’s light figure in his arms, thanking heaven 
inwardly as he did so for his young wife’s whole- 
some weight. At the same moment words of 
of eager, cheery welcome for his old friend were 
on his lips: 

“Thorne Lee, V m gladder to see you than any- 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


198 

body in the world! Miss Evelyn, here’s Mrs. 
Churchill. She’s not an old married woman at 
all — she’s the dearest girl in the world. She’s 
going to seem to you like one of your school- 
fellows. Charlotte, here she is; take good care 
of her.” 

Thorne Lee stood looking on, a relieved smile 
on his lips as his old friend’s wife took his sick 
little sister into her charge. It was not two 
minutes before he saw Evelyn, lying pale and mute 
on the couch, yet smiling up at Charlotte’s bright 
young face. 

Charlotte adminstered a cup of hot bouillon talk- 
ing so engagingly meanwhile that Evelyn was be- 
guiled into taking without protest the whole of the 
much-needed nourishment. Then he saw the 
young invalid carried off to bed, relieved of the 
necessity of meeting any more members of the 
household. He learned, as Charlotte slipped into 
the room after an hour’s absence, that Evelyn had 
already dropped off to sleep. He leaned back in 
his chair with a long breath. 

“What kind of a girl is this you’ve married, 
Andy?” he asked, with a smile and a look from 
one to the other. The three were alone, Mrs. 
Peyton and her children having gone out to some 
sort of entertainment. 

“Just what she seems to be,” replied Doctor 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


199 

Churchill, smiling back, “and a thousand times 
more.” 

“I might have known you would care for no 
other,” Lee said. “And you two ‘live in your 
house at the side of the road, to be good friends 
to man,’ — if I may adapt those homely words.” 

“We haven’t been at it very long, but we hope 
to realize an ambition of the sort. It doesn’t 
take much philanthropy to welcome you.” 

“You can’t think what a relief it is to me to get 
that little sister of mine under your wing, even for 
a few hours.” 

“Tell us all about her.” 

Lee had not meant to begin at once upon his 
troubles, but his friend drew him on, and before 
the evening ended the doctor and Charlotte had 
the whole long, hard story of Lee’s guardianship 
of several young brothers and sisters, his struggle 
to get established in his profession and make 
money for their support, his many anxieties in the 
process, and this culminating trouble in the break- 
down of the younger sister, jusf"as he thought he 
had her safely established in a school where she 
might have a happy home for several years. 

Lee stopped suddenly, as if he had hardly 
known how long he had been talking. “I’m a 
pleasant guest!” he said, regret in his tone. “I 
meant to tell you briefly the history of Evelyn’s 


200 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


illness, and here Fve gone on unloading all my 
burdens of years. What do you sit there looking 
so benevolent and sympathetic for, beguiling a 
fellow into making a weak-kneed fool of himself ? 
My worries are no greater than those of millions 
of other people, and here Eve been laying it on 
with a trowel. Forget the whole dismal story, 
and just give me a bit of professional advice 
about my little sister.” 

“Look here, old boy,” said his friend, “don’t 
go talking that way. You’ve done just what I 
was anxious you should do — given me your con- 
fidence. I can go at your sister’s case with a bet- 
ter chance of understanding it if I know this 
whole story. And now I’m going to thank you 
and send you off to bed for a good night’s sleep. 
To-morrow we’ll take Evelyn in hand.” 

“Bless you, Andy! You’re the same old tried 
and true,” murmured Thorne Lee, shaking hands 
warmly. 

Then Charlotte led him away up-stairs to see 
his sister, who had waked and wanted him. 
Stooping over her bed, he felt a pair of slender 
arms round his neck and heard her voice whis- 
pering in his ear: 

“Thorny, I just wanted you to know that I 
think Mrs. Churchill is the dearest person I ever 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


201 


saw, and I’m going to sleep better to-night than I 
have for weeks.” 

“Thank God for that!” thought Lee, and 
kissed the thin cheek of the girl with brotherly 
fervor. 

Down-stairs in the hall a few minutes later 
Andrew Churchill advanced to meet his wife, as 
she returned to him after ministering to Evelyn 
Lee’s wants. 

“Do you know,” said he, looking straight down 
into her eyes as she came up to him, “those words 
of Stevenson’s — though they always fit you — 
seem particularly applicable to you to-night ? 

“ Steel-true and blade-straight 
The great artificer 
Made my mate/ ” 


CHAPTER IV 


T THINK,” said Doctor Churchill, leaning 
back in his office chair, with a mingling 
of the professional and the friendly in his 
air, “ that we can get at the bottom of Evelyn’s 
troubles without very much difficulty.” He had 
just sent Evelyn back to Charlotte, after an hour in 
the office, during which he had subjected her to a 
minute and painstaking examination into the 
cause of her ill health. And now to her brother, 
anxiously awaiting his verdict, he spoke his mind. 

“ If you’ll let me be very frank with you, Thorne, ” 
he said, “I’ll tell you just what I think about 
Evelyn, and just what it seems to me is the proper 
course for us to take with her. ” 

“Go ahead; it’s exactly that I want,” Lee de- 
clared. “ I know well enough that my care of her 
has been seriously at fault.” 

“Never in intention,” said Doctor Churchill, 
“ only in the excess of your tenderness. Evelyn has 
lived in overheated rooms, with hot baths, in- 
sufficient exercise, and improper food. In the 
kindness of your heart you have been nourishing a 
little hot-house plant, and there’s no occasion for 


202 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 203 

surprise that it wilts at the first blast of ordinary 
air.” 

Lee looked dismayed. 

“I’m mighty sorry, Andy,” he said, remorse- 
fully. 

“Don’t feel too badly,” was 'his friend’s reply. 
“After a winter with us Evelyn will be another 
girl.” 

“What?” Lee started in his chair. “Andy, 
what are you thinking about ?” 

“Just what I say. Charlotte and I have talked 
it all over. We’ve both taken an immense liking 
to Evelyn and we’d honestly enjoy having her here 
for the winter. It only remains for you to con- 
vince Evelyn herself that we are to be trusted, and 
to secure her promise that we may have our way 
with her from first to last, and the thing is done. ” 

“You are sure that’s really all there is to it? 
You’re not keeping anything from me ?” 

“Not a thing. And I’m as sure as a man can 
well be. That’s why I don’t prescribe a sana- 
torium for her, or anything of that sort. All she 
needs is a rational, every-day life of the health- 
making kind, such as Charlotte and I can teach 
her — Charlotte even more effectively than I. 
Evelyn needs simply to build up a strong physical 
body; then these troublesome nerves will take 
care of themselves. Believe me, Thorne, it’s refresh- 


204 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


ingly simple. Eve not even a drug to suggest for 
your sister. She doesn’t need any.” 

“But, Andy, it doesn’t seem to me I can let 
Evelyn stay here with you all winter — the first 
winter of your married life. You two ought to be 
alone together.” 

“No. Charlotte and I haven’t set out to go 
through life — even this first year of it — alone to- 
gether. We are together, no matter how many 
we have about us. It will be only in the day’s 
work if we keep Evelyn with us, and it’s a sort of 
work that will pay pretty well, I fancy.” 

“It certainly will — in more than one kind of 
coin,” and Lee gripped his friend’s hand. 

So it was settled. Evelyn agreed so joyously to 
the plan that her brother’s last doubt of its feasi- 
bility was removed, and he went away a day later 
with a heart so much lighter than the one he had 
brought with him that it showed in his whole 
bearing. 

“God bless you and your sweet wife, Andy 
Churchill,” he wrote back from his first stopping- 
place, and when Churchill showed the letter to 
Charlotte she said, happily: 

“ We’ll make the copper motto come true with this 
guest, won’t we ? Evelyn will be a very pretty 
girl when she loses that fragile look. Her eyes 
and expression are beautiful. Do you know, she 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


205 

accepts everything I say as if I were the Goddess 
of Wisdom herself. ” 

“Charlotte,” said Mrs. Peyton, a few days later, 
coming hurriedly into Charlotte’s own room, 
where that young woman was busy with various 
housewifely offices, “I’ve had a telegram. I’m 
so upset I don’t know what to do. My sister is 
sick and her husband is away, and she’s sent for 
me. I’m not able to do nursing — I’m not strong 
enough — but I don’t see but that I must go.” 

“I’m very sorry your sister is ill,” said Char- 
lotte. “Tell me about her.” 

Mrs. Peyton told at length. “And what I’m 
to do with the children,” she said, mournfully, “I 
don’t know. Sister doesn’t want them to come. 
But here I’m away up North and sister’s out West, 
and the children couldn’t go home alone. Be- 
sides, there’s nowhere for them to go. I am their 
only home. Dear, dear, what shall I do ?” 

The front door-bell, ringing sharply, sent Char- 
lotte down-stairs. At this moment she saw her 
husband coming up the street in his runabout. 
When Doctor Churchill ran into his office after a 
case of instruments he had forgotten, his wife cast 
herself into his arms, in such a state of emotion 
that he held her close, bewildered. 

“What on earth is it, dear ?” he asked. “Are you 
laughing or crying ? Here, let me see your face. ” 


206 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


“O Andy” — Charlotte would not let her face be 
seen — “it’s Cousin Lula! She’s — she’s — oh, 
she’s — going awayV’ 

Churchill burst into smothered laughter. “It 
can’t be you’re crying,” he murmured. “Charl- 
lotte, I don’t blame you. Look up and smile. I 
know how you must be feeling. You’ve been a 
regular heroine all these weeks.” 

“I’m awfully ashamed,” choked Charlotte, on 
his shoulder, “but, O Andy, what it will seem not 
to have to — oh, I mustn’t say it, but ” 

“I know, I know!” He patted her shoulder. 

“Her sister is ill, in the West somewhere. 
She has to go to her at once. She wants the chil- 
dren to stay with us.” 

“She does!” 

“Her sister doesn’t want them there, and she 
can’t send them home. Andy, I wouldn’t mind 
that so awfully. I’d almost like the chance to see 
what we could do with them.” 

“Well, don’t answer definitely till I have time to 
talk it over with you and with her. I must go 
now.” 

They talked it over, together, and with Mrs. 
Peyton. The result of these conferences was that 
two days later that lady took her departure, leav- 
ing her children in the care of the Churchills. 

“On one condition, Cousin Lula,” Doctor 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


207 


Churchill had said to her with decision. “That 
you put them absolutely in our care and trust our 
judgment in the management of them.” 

Mrs. Peyton tried to make a few reservations. 
Her cousin would have none of them. At last she 
submitted, understanding well enough in her heart 
that Andrew Churchill would be the safest sort of 
a guardian for her children, and admitting to her- 
self, if she did not to anybody else, that Charlotte 
would give them care of the sort which money 
cannot buy. 

“That woman gone?” asked Jeff, coming into 
his sister Celia’s room. “Well, I’m delighted to 
hear it. But I must say I think Charlotte’s taken 
a good deal of a contract. I didn’t mind so much 
about their agreeing to keep Evelyn Lee, for she’s 
a mighty nice sort of a girl, and will make a still 
nicer one when she gets strong. But these Peyton 
youngsters — I certainly don’t think taking care 
of them ought to have been on the bill. That 
idiot Lucy — ” His expressive face finished the 
sentence for him. 

Celia smiled. “I know. I feel as you do, and 
I think father and mother are a little anxious lest 
Charlotte has taken too much care on her shoul- 
ders. But Charlotte and Andy have set out to 
make everybody happy, and they’re seizing every 
chance that offers. They’re so enthusiastic about 


208 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


it one can’t bear to dampen their ardour. The 
least we can do is to help them whenever we can. ” 

Jeff made a wry face. “I don’t mind assisting 
in the boy’s education, but I draw the line at the 
girl. She’s a silly. Why, she — ” His face 
coloured with resentment. “It sounds crazy to 
say, but she does, for a fact, make eyes at every 
man or boy she sees.” 

Celia laughed. “I hadn’t noticed. But she 
can’t mean to, Jeff. She’s only fifteen.” 

“That’s the idiocy of it. She’s only fifteen, but 
you watch her the next time any of us fellows come 
into the room. Just can tell you; he’s in a chronic 
state of laugh over it. She thinks she’s a beauty, 
and she thinks we’re all impressed with the fact.” 

“She is pretty.” 

“I don’t think so. I don’t call any girl pretty 
who’s so struck with herself that she can’t get by 
a mirror without a glance and a pat of that big 
fluff of front hair. You don’t catch Eveyln look- 
ing into a glass or acting as if she thought every- 
body was about to fall in love with her. I’m going 
to take her skating when she gets strong enough.” 

“That won’t be for some time, I’m afraid. But 
she certainly is looking better already.” 

So she was . 1 Charlotte had begun very gently 
with Evelyn, reducing the temperature of the 
daily bath only by a degree at a time, lessening the 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


209 


heat in the sleeping room, opening the windows 
for outside air an inch more each night, coaxing 
her out for a short walk of gradually increasing 
length each day, and generally luring her toward 
more healthful ways of living than those to which 
she had been accustomed. 

Bedtime found Evelyn exceedingly weary, but 
it was healthful weariness, and she was beginning 
to be able to sleep. 

A tinge of colour was growing in the pale cheeks, 
a brighter expression in the large eyes, and alto- 
gether the young guest was showing a gratifying 
response to the new methods. 

“I think/’ said Charlotte to Evelyn one morn- 
ing, when three weeks had gone by, “we shall have 
to celebrate your improvement by a little concert 
this evening. Would you like to hear the Birch- 
Churchill orchestra?” 

“Orchestra? How lovely! Indeed I should!” 
cried Evelyn, with a display of enthusiasm quite 
unusual. “ What do you play ? ” 

“ Strings. We’re badly out of practice, but there 
are always a few old things we can get up fairly 
well at a minute’s notice. The truth is, we haven’t 
played together since long before my wedding-day, 
and I resolved the minute we were married we’d 
begin again. We will begin, this very night. I 
know they’ll all be glad.” 


210 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


The performers did, indeed, show their pleasure 
by arriving early, flannel-shrouded instruments 
under their arms. Doctor Churchill came in just 
as they were tuning. Since Lanse had been 
away, Andy, who was something of a violin- 
ist had taken up Lanse’s viola, and was now 
able to occupy his brother-in-law’s place. Celia, 
however, had been chosen to fill the vacant role 
of leadership. 

“The rest of us are only imitators,” Jeff de- 
clared to Evelyn, as he stood near her, softly trying 
his strings. “Charlotte’s the best, and Andy’s 
very good indeed; but it’s only Celia who goes to 
hear big music and sits with the tears rolling down 
her cheeks, while the rest of us are wondering 
what on earth it all means.” 

Evelyn, leaning back among the pillows of the 
wide couch, called Lucy softly, motioning her to a 
seat by her side. 

Lucy came quickly, pleased by Evelyn’s notice. 
She in her turn had been regarding Evelyn as a 
monopolist of everybody’s attention and had made 
up her mind not to like her. But now she sank 
into the place by Evelyn’s side, and accepted the 
delicate touch of Evelyn’s hand on hers as recog- 
nition at last that here was another girl fit to make 
friends with. 

“Don’t they play well?” whispered Evelyn, 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


21 1 


as the music came to a sudden stop that Celia 
might criticise the playing of a difficult passage. 

“She doesn’t think so,” called Just, softly, 
having caught the whisper. He indicated his 
elder sister. “ She won’t let me boom things with 
my viol the way I’d like to. What’s the use of 
playing the biggest instrument if you can’t make 
the biggest noise?” 

“Solo, by the double-bass!” cried Andy; and 
the whole orchestra, except the first violin of the 
leader, burst into a boisterous rendering of a popu- 
lar street song, in which Just sawed forth the lead- 
ing part, while the others kept up a rattling stac- 
cato accompaniment. Evelyn and Lucy became 
breathless with laughter, and Mr. and Mrs. Birch, 
who had just slipped into the room, joined in the 
merriment. 

“There you are,” chuckled Jeff. “ That’s what 
you get when you give the donkey the solo part 
among the farmyard performers.” 

“He can sing as well as the peacock,” retorted 
Just, with spirit. 

“We were right in the middle the* Hungarian 
Intermezzo ,’” explained Celia to the newcomers. 
“I stopped them to tell them why they needed to 
look more carefully to their phrasing, and the 
children burst into this sort of thing. What shall 
I do with them ?” 


212 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


“ It's a great relief to feel that they’re not alto- 
gether grown up, after all,” said Mr. Birch, help- 
ing himself to his favourite easy chair near the fire- 
place. “ There are times when we feel a strong 
suspicion that we haven’t any children any more. 
Moments like these assure us that we are mis- 
taken. Go on with your ‘ Intermezzo ,’ but give us 
another nursery song before you are through.” 

“Nursery song! That’s pretty good,” said 
Jeff, in Just’s ear, and that sixteen-year-old mum- 
bled in reply, “ I can throw you over my shoulder 
just the same.” 

“Boys, come! We’re ready!” called Celia, and 
the music began again. 

“Are you getting tired, dear ?” asked Mrs. Birch 
of Evelyn, when the “ Intermezzo ” was finished, 
noting the flush on the delicate cheek. Evelyn 
looked up brightly. 

“Not enough to hurt me. I’m enjoying it so! 
Aren’t large families lovely ? I was so much 
younger than my brothers and sisters that by the 
time I was old enough to care about having good 
times like this on winter evenings they were all 
away at school or married. We never had any- 
thing so nice as a family orchestra, either. I wish 
I could play something.” 

“How about the piano ?” asked Charlotte, who 
sat near. Evelyn’s flush grew pinker. 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


213 

“I can play a little,” she said. “But you don’t 
need the piano.” 

“Yes, we do. A piano would add ever so 
much. Next time we’ll have our practice at home, 
and give you a part. ” 

Then she glanced at Lucy, and saw what might 
have been expected, a look of envy and discontent. 
“Is there anything you can play, Lucy?” she 
asked. “It would be very nice to have everybody 
in. Perhaps Ran could have a triangle. ” 

“ I play the piano,” said Lucy. 

“ Oh, give Lucy the piano, ” Evelyn said, quickly, 
— also as might have been expected. 

“We’ll try you both,” put in Doctor Churchill, 
“as they always do aspirants for such positions.” 

“I’ve had lessons from the best master in our 
state,” said Lucy to Just. 

“That so ? Then you may win out,” was his 
opinion. “But you can’t be sure. Evelyn’s not 
much of a bragger, but she seems to be a pretty 
well-educated girl.” 

“Just, be careful!” warned Charlotte, in his 
ear, as she drew him gently to one side. “I know 
you don’t like her, but you must be considerate of 
her.” 

“I don’t feel much like it.” 

“You know I want your help about Lucy.” 
Charlotte had drawn him still farther away, so 


214 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


that she could speak with safety. “ But you know, 
too, that snubbing isn’t a way to get hold of any- 
body.^ 

“It’s the only way with conceited softies,” be- 
gan Just. 

But Charlotte caught his hand and squeezed it. 
“No, it isn’t. I’m sure she’s worth being friends 
with, and if she can learn certain things you can 
teach her in the way of athletics, and reading, and 
all that, you can do her lots of good. ” 

“Don’t feel a bit like being a missionary!” 
growled Just. “Suppose I’ve got to try it, to 
please you. Evelyn’s all right, isn’t she ?” 

“Yes, she’s a dear. I’m so glad we kept her. 
That makes me realise she’s had quite enough ex- 
citement for to-night. I must carry her off to bed. 
Perhaps you’d all better ” 

“No, you don’t!” said Just, with a rebellious 
laugh. “Just because you’ve set up a sanatorium 
and a kindergarten you can’t send your brothers 
off to bed at nine o’clock. I want a good visit 
with you after the infants and invalids are in 
bed.” 

“All right, big boy,” promised Charlotte, re- 
joicing in the affectionate look he gave her. 

She had been anxious that her marriage should 
in no way interfere with the old brotherly and 
sisterly relations, and it was a long time since she 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


215 


had had a confidential talk with her youngest 
brother. Jeff* was always coming to her precisely 
as in the old days, with demands for interest and 
advice; but Just had seemed a little farther 
away. 

So when she had seen the “ infants and invalids” 
happily gone to rest, and after a quiet hour of 
family talk about the fireside had said good-night 
to all the others, Charlotte turned to Just with a look 
of welcome as fresh and inviting as if the evening 
had but now begun. Doctor Churchill had gone 
to make a bedtime call upon a patient critically ill, 
and the two were quite alone. 

“This is jolly,” said Just, settling himself on a 
couch pillow at her feet, his long legs stretched out 
to the fire, his head resting against his sister’s knee. 
“Now I’m going to tell you everything that’s 
happened to me since you were married. Not 
that there’s anything wonderful to tell, or that I’m 
in any scrape, you know, but I’d like to feel I’ve 
got my sister and that she cares — just as much as 
ever.” He twisted his head about till he could 
look up into the warm, sweet face above him. 
“Does she care as much as ever ?” 

It was an unusual demonstration from the big 
boy, now at the age when sisterly companionship 
is often despised, and Charlotte appreciated it. 
More than Justin Birch could understand was in 


2l6 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


her voice as her fingers rested upon his hair, but 
what she said gave him great satisfaction, although 
it was only a blithe : 

“Just as much — and a little more, dear. Tell 
me the whole story. There’s nothing I’d like so 
much to hear.” 


CHAPTER V 


J^VELYN ! Miss Evelyn Lee! Where are you ?” 

Jeff’s shout rang up the stairs, and in 
obedience to its imperative summons Evelyn im- 1 
mediately appeared at the head. 

“Yes, Mr. Jefferson Birch,” she responded. 
“Is the house on fire?” 

“Not a bit, but I’m anxious for your hearing. 
I’ve been roaring gently all over the house without 
a result, except to scare three patients in Andy’s 
office. Won’t you come down?” 

She descended slowly, but she neither clung to 
the rail nor sat down to rest half-way, as she had 
done when she first came under the Churchill roof. 

Her face was acquiring the soft bloom of a 
flower, her eyes were full of light and interest. 
She still looked slim and frail, but she was begin- 
ning to show signs of waxing health very pleasant 
to see for those who- had grown as interested in her 
as if she were a young sister of their own. 

“I’ve an invitation for you from Carolyn 
Houghton for an impromptu sleigh-ride to-night. 
Don’t you suppose you can go ? I’ll take all sorts 
of care of you and see that you don’t get too tired. 


217 


2l8 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


You’ve met Carolyn; she’s a jolly girl to know, and 
she told me to bring you if possible.” 

Evelyn dropped into a chair. “Oh, how I 
should love to go!” she said. “I never went on a 
sleigh-ride like that in my life. Do you go all 
together in a big load ?” 

“Yes — a regular prairie-schooner of a sleigh. 
Holds a dozen of us, packed like sardines, so no- 
body can get cold. We take hot soapstones and 
rugs and robes, and we go only twelve miles, to a 
farmhouse where we get a hot supper — oysters and 
hot biscuit and maple-syrup, and all sorts of good 
things. You must go.” 

“If I only could!” sighed Evelyn. “I’m so 
afraid they won’t think I can.” 

“They will, if you think you can,” asserted Jeff. 
“You’re up to it, aren’t you? You needn’t do a 
thing. Six of the crowd are going to give a little 
play. I’ll get the load started home early, and 
we’ll come back flying. Be here by midnight at 
the latest. It’ll do you good, I know it will.” 

“O Mrs. Churchill!” breathed Evelyn, as 
Charlotte appeared from the hall. 

“O Evelyn Lee!” answered Charlotte, smiling 
back at the eager face. “Yes, I heard most of it, 
Jeff, for I was coming down-stairs, and you weren’t 
exactly whispering. It’s an enticing plan, isn’t 
it?” 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


219 


“Of course it is. And it’s magnificent weather 
for the affair. Not cold a bit and no wind; moon- 
light due if no clouds come up. Evelyn can’t get 
cold. I’ll keep her done up to the tip of her nose, 
and be so devoted nobody else will have a chance 
to worry her. Say she may go. Don’t you see 
the disappointment would be worse for her than 
the trip ?” 

“You artful pleader, I’m not sure but it would. 
If Doctor Churchill agrees, Evelyn, I’ll let you try 
it. On one condition, Jeff — that you really do get 
back by midnight. For a girl who has been put to 
bed for weeks at nine that’s late enough.” 

Evelyn went about all day with a lighter step 
than her friends had yet seen her assume. 

“Now remember, I trust her absolutely to your 
care,” Charlotte said to Jeff that evening, as he 
appeared, his arms full of accessories for making 
his charge comfortable. 

Evelyn, in furs and heavy coat, smiled at her 
escort. “I’m not a bit afraid,” she said. “Oh, 
what a beautiful night! The moon is out. Is that 
the sleigh coming up the street now, with all those 
horns? What fun!” 

“ I want to put Miss Lee right in the middle of 
everything!” Jeff called out, as the sleighload 
stopped. “I’m particularly requested not to let a 
breath of frost strike her,” 


220 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


“Come on, here’s just the spot,” answered 
Carolyn Hougthon, holding out a welcoming hand; 
and then the girl from the South, who had never 
known the sleighing-party of the North, found 
herself being whirled away over the road, to an 
accompaniment of youthful merriment, bursts of 
songs and tooting of horns. 

Before it seemed possible the twelve miles of 
fine sleighing had been covered, and the old farm- 
house, its door flung hospitably open at the sound 
of the horns, was invaded by the gay band. 

Evelyn, in a quaint up-stairs bedroom, lighted 
by kerosene lamps and warmed by a roaring wood 
fire in an old-fashioned box stove, was attended by 
Carolyn Houghton, who was, as Jeff had said, a 
“jolly girl to know.” Herself a blooming maid 
with black locks and carnation cheeks, Carolyn 
admired intensely Evelyn’s auburn hair and fair 
complexion. 

“Don’t you think she’s the dearest thing?” she 
whispered to a friend, as they descended the stairs. 
“There’s something so soft and sweet and ladylike 
about her, as if nobody could be slangy or loud 
before her, you know. Yet she isn’t a bit dull; 
she just sparkles when you get her interested and 
happy. I do want her to have a good time to- 
night.” 

There could be no doubt that Evelyn was having 





































































































































THE SECOND VIOLIN 


221 


a good time. Everything pleased her, everybody 
interested her. It seemed to her that she had 
never seen such charming young people before. 

The little play made her laugh till she was as 
flushed and gay as a child. Those with whom 
Evelyn showed herself so delighted became equally 
delighted with her, and before the evening was 
over she was feeling that she had always known 
these young friends, had forgotten that she had 
ever been an invalid, and was indeed “ sparkling/’ 
as Carolyn Houghton had said, in a way that drew 
all eyes toward her in admiration. 

Jeff, indeed, stared at her as if he had never 
seen her before. 

“I’m sure this isn’t hurting you a bit,” he said in 
her ear, as the evening slipped on. “You must be 
feeling pretty well, for I’ve never seen you so jolly. 
I’m going to do the prescribing after this. I know 
what’s good for little girls.” 

“I believe you do,” Evelyn answered. “No, 
I’m not a bit tired. Why, is it almost 
eleven ?” 

“Yes, and time to go, if we live up to our prom- 
ises. Seems a pity, doesn’t it ? But it doesn’t pay 
to break your word, so as soon as you girls can get 
into your toggery we’ll be off.” 

“Of course, we must keep our promise,” agreed 
Evelyn, w^h decision, and straightway she went 


222 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


up-stairs for her wraps. The other girls followed 
more reluctantly. 

“‘ Goodness, girls, look out!” cried somebody 
from the window. “Did you ever see it so thick ? 
The barns are just down there, where that glimmer 
is, but you can’t see them at all.” 

“All the more fun,” said another girl. 

“We’re pretty far out in the country, and the 
road’s awfully winding. I hope we get home all 
right.” 

“Oh, nonsense!” said some one else, with 
great positiveness. “I should know the way with 
my eyes shut. Besides, it was as clear as a bell 
when we came. It can’t have been snowing long 
enough to block things in the least.” 

They found it had done so however, when they 
descended to the sleigh. That vehicle had been 
brought close to the porch, that the girls might not 
have to walk through the deep snow. The air was 
so full of the whirling white particles that from the 
farther end of the sleigh one could barely see the 
horses. 

“I declare, I don’t feel just easy about you folks 
starting out,” said the farmer whose guests they 
had been. “Better watch the road some careful, 
you driver. I suppose you know it pretty well.” 

“He doesn’t, but I do!” called a tall youth from 
the driver’s seat. “I’ll keep him straight. We’ll 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


223 


be all right. We’re due home at midnight, and 
we’ll be there, unless the roads are too heavy to 
keep the pace we came in.” 

“No, sir, we can’t ever keep the pace we come 
in,” presently averred the man from the livery- 
stable, who was driving. “The road’s pretty 
heavy. I declare, I don’t know as I ever see 
snow so thick. Do I turn a little to the right here 
or do I keep straight ahead?” 

“Straight ahead,” answered the boy beside him, 
confidently. “ I’ve been over this road a thousand 
times, and it doesn’t bend to the right for half a 
mile yet.” 

“It’s lucky you know,” said the driver. “I’m 
all at sea already. Can’t see the fences only now 
and then. I’d ha’ swung off there, sure, if you 
hadn’t said not.” 

As the rising wind began to whirl snowily about 
their ears and necks, the party turned up their 
coat-collars and tucked in their fur robes. The 
horses were plowing with increasing difficulty 
through the heavily drifted roads, and more than 
once their driver found himself obliged to make 
a long detour around a drift which had not been in 
the road when they first came over it. Moreover, 
in spite of the snow, the air seemed to have grown 
colder and to be acquiring a penetrating, icy 
quality which at last made Jeff declare to Evelyn: 


224 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


“You may say you’re not cold, but I’m going 
to insist on your letting me wrap this steamer rug 
round your shoulders, with the corner over your 
head, so. Now doesn’t that keep off a lot of 
wind ?” 

“Indeed it does, thank you,” admitted Evelyn, 
with a little shiver she could not quite conceal. 

“You are cold!” Jeff said, anxiously. 

“No colder than anybody else. Please don’t 
worry about me.” 

But he did worry, and with reason. Indeed, 
although nobody was willing yet to admit it, the 
situation was becoming a little unpleasant. In 
spite of the stout confidence of the boy on the seat 
with the driver, others who were somewhat familiar 
with the road were beginning to question his lead- 
ing. 

“That clump of trees doesn’t look natural just 
there,” said one, standing up in the sleigh and 
trying to peer through the wall of snowflakes. 
“It’s too near. It ought to be a hundred feet 
away.” 

“No. You’re thinking we’re farther back than 
we are,” declared Neil Ward, from the front seat. 
“We’re almost at the turn by the railroad.” 

“Why, we can’t be! We haven’t passed the 
Winters farm. I tell you, you’re off the road.” 

“I think we are,” agreed the driver, uneasily, 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


225 


pulling his cap farther over his snow-hung eye- 
brows. “Eve been thinking so for quite a spell. 

“We’re all right. You people just keep cool!” 
cried Neil. 

“No trouble about keeping cool in this bliz- 
zard!” growled somebody, and there was a 
general laugh. 

One of the girls started a song, and they all 
joined cheerily in. A proposition to toot the 
horns, forgotten in the bottom of the sleigh, with 
a hope of attracting attention from some one, 
was adopted, and a hideous din followed, and was 
kept up till every one was weary — with no result. 

All at once, without warning, the horses plunged 
heavily and solidly to their steaming shoulders into 
an undreamed-of ditch, and the sleigh stopped, 
well into the same hole. 

“Will you admit now that we’re off the road, 
Neil Ward?” cried some one, fiercely; and Neil, 
without contention but with evident chagrin, ad- 
mitted it. There was no ditch that he was aware 
of within a mile of the highway. 

Jeff drew the rugs tighter about Evelyn, then 
lifted a corner to peer in. “Don’t be frightened, 
little girl. We’ll get out of this all right,” he said, 
as cheerfully as he could, although he was alarmed 
for her safety more than he would have dared to 
admit, even to himself. 


226 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


The other girls were all strong, healthy speci- 
mens of young womanhood, presumably able to 
endure a good deal of cold and exposure without 
danger of serious harm. But this little sensi- 
tive plant! Jeff waited in suspense for her answer. 

It came in a clear, sweet voice, without a particle 
of fright in it: “Of course we shall. And won’t it 
be fun to tell about it afterward ?” 

“You’re right, it will!” he responded, with 
enthusiasm. Inwardly he said, “You’re a plucky 
one, all right.” Then, with the other fellows, 
he leaped out of the sleigh, and went to trampling 
down the snow around the imprisoned horses. 

Alone together, after Randolph and Lucy had 
gone to bed, Andrew and Charlotte passed the 
long evening. Charlotte was not willing to let 
Evelyn come home to a closed and silent house, so 
the two awaited her arrival. 

“Why, Andy, it’s snowing furiously!” said 
Charlotte, from the window, whither she had gone 
at the stroke of twelve. Doctor Churchill put 
down the book from which he had been reading 
aloud, and came to her side. 

“So it is. Blowing, too. But it can’t have 
been at it long or we should have noticed. ” 

“I’ve been noticing the wind now and then for 
the last hour. I hope it’s not grown cold. I 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


227 


wouldn’t have anything happen to upset Evelyn’s 
improvement for the world.” 

“ Nothing will. They’ll be home before the 
half-hour. Come back and listen to the rest of 
this chapter.” 

Charlotte came back, but as the quarter-hours 
went slowly by she became restless, and vibrated 
so continually between fireplace and window that 
Andy finally put away the book and kept her com- 
pany. 

“It’s growing worse every minute.” Char- 
lotte’s face was pressed close against the frosty 
pane. “If they don’t come by one it will look as 
if something had happened.” 

“Oh, they’re at the irresponsible age. When 
they come they’ll say, ‘Why, we didn’t dream it 
was so late!”’ 

“Jeff’s not irresponsible when he gives a prom- 
ise. He never breaks one,” Charlotte answered, 
confidently. 

“This storm would make' the roads heavy. 
Even if they started on time, they would have to 
travel twice as slowly as when they went. Stop 
worrying, dear; it’s not in character for you.” 

Charlotte closed her lips, but when the clock 
struck one her eyes spoke for her. “Evelyn is so 
delicate,” they said, mutely, and Andy answered 
as if she had spoken: 


228 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


“ Evelyn is wrapped too heavily to be cold. 
Besides, they’ll all take care of her. She won’t 
come to any harm, I’m sure of it. They’ll be 
here before half-past-one, I’m confident, and then 
we can antidote any chill she may have got.” 

But at half-past-one there was still no sign of the 
sleighing party. Moreover, the storm was steadily 
increasing; it had become what is known as a 
“ blizzard.” Even in the protected suburban 
street the drifts were beginning to show size, and 
the arc-light at the corner was almost lost to view 
through the downfall. 

Charlotte turned to her husband with some- 
thing like imperiousness in her manner, and met 
the same decision in his look. Before she could 
speak he said: 

“Yes, I’ll go to meet them. It does look as if 
they might be stalled somewhere. It’s rather a 
lonely road till they reach the railroad, and it’s 
possible they’ve missed the way.” 

He went to the telephone. 

“Andy,” cried Charlotte, following him, “order 
a double sleigh, please! I must go with you.” 

He turned and looked at her, hesitating. “It 
isn’t necessary, dear. I’ll go over and wake up 
Just, I think. We two will be ” 

“I must go,” she interrupted. “I couldn’t 
endure to wait here any longer. And if Evelyn 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


229 

should be very much chilled she’ll need me to look 
after her. Besides ” 

He smiled at her. “You won’t let me get lost 
in a snow-drift myself without you.” 

She nodded, and ran away to make ready. By 
the time the livery-stable had been awakened from 
its early morning apathy, and had sent round the 
double sleigh with the best pair of horses in its 
stalls, the party was ready. 

Just, awakened by snowballs thrown in at his 
open window, had joyfully dressed himself. At 
the last moment Charlotte had thought of the auto- 
mobile headlight, and this, hurriedly filled and 
lighted, streamed out over the snow as the three 
jumped into the sleigh. All were warmly dressed, 
and Charlotte had brought many extra wraps, as 
well as a supply of medicines for a possible emer- 
gency of which she did not like to think. 

“Julius Caesar, but this is a night!” came from 
between Just’s teeth, as the sleigh reached the end 
of the suburban streets and made the turn upon 
the open country road. He clutched at his cap, 
pulling it still farther down over his ears. “What 
a change in six hours!” 

“This is a straight nor’easter,” answered Doctor 
Churchill, slapping hands already chilled, in spite 
of his heavy driving gloves. Then he turned his 


230 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


head. “Can’t you keep well down behind us, 
Charlotte ?” he called over his shoulder. 

“I’m all right !” she called back. One had to 
shout to be heard in the roar of the wind. 

After that nobody talked, except as Just from 
time to time offered to drive to give Andrew’s 
hands a chance to warm. That young man, 
however, would not give over the reins to any- 
body. It was not for nothing that he had been 
driving over this country, under all possible con- 
ditions of weather, for nearly five years. 

When they had crossed the railroad which 
marked the end of the main highway between two 
towns and the beginning of the narrow side road 
which led off across country to the farmhouse of 
the sleighing party, conviction that the young 
people had been stalled somewhere on the great 
plain they were crossing became settled. 

It was with the utmost difficulty that Doctor 
Churchill kept the road. Only the fact that the 
storm was showing signs of decreasing, and that 
now and then came moments when he could see 
more clearly the outlying indications of fence and 
tree and infrequent habitation assured him that he 
had not lost the way. 

“Hark!” cried Charlotte, suddenly, as they 
along. 

For the instant the wind had lulled. Doctor 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


231 


Churchill stopped his horses, and the three held 
their breath to listen. After a brief interval 
came the faint, far toot of a horn. Then, away 
to the left, a light suddenly flashed, vanished, and 
flashed again. 

“There they are!” cried three exultant voices. 

“But how shall we get to them ?” shouted Just, 
instantly alive with excitement. “Why, they’re a 
mile away! There’s no road over there, nor any 
houses. They’re right out in the fields.” 

Then the sifting snow shut down again. The 
three looked at one another in the yellow glare from 
the automobile headlight. 


CHAPTER VI 


jP\ON’T they see our light ?” Charlotte asked, 
eagerly. 

“I think perhaps they have seen it,” Doctor 
Churchill answered, “and that’s why they 
were blowing their horns. Probably some of 
them will start toward us. If they’re not stuck, 
they’ll begin to drive this way. I believe the 
thing to do will be for Charlotte to stay here in the 
sleigh, keeping the headlight pointed just to the left 
of that big tree — I noticed that was where the flash 
of their fire came — and for Just and me to start 
across the fields. I’ll turn the horses with their 
backs to the wind and blanket them. Then — 
hold on, I’ve a better plan. Let’s make a fire of 
our own. That will insure Charlotte’s keeping 
warm.” 

“Everything’s too wet,” objected Just. “That 
crowd must have had a time getting green wood 
to burn.” 

“We can do it.” Doctor Churchill was feeling 
among the robes at his feet. “I thought of it 
before we started, and put in a kerosene-can and 
some newspapers. Hatchet, too.”“ 


232 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


233 


Just got out of the sleigh and waded away 
toward a thick growth of underbrush along the 
side of the road. 

In ten minutes a roaring fire was leaping into 
the descending snowfall. A pile of brush and 
some broken fence-rails were left with Charlotte, 
the horses made as snug as possible, and then the 
two others jumped the fence and plunged off into 
the snow. 

Guided by glimpses of the apparently fitful fire 
of the sleighing party, Doctor Churchill and Just 
made their way. Sometimes the course was 
comparatively free from drifts; again they had to 
wallow nearly to their waists. 

“Confounded long way!” grunted Just. “Good 
thing we’re both tough and strong. Except for 
Jeff, there aren’t any athletes in the Houghton 
party.” 

“Don’t I see somebody coming toward us?” 
Doctor Churchill asked, presently. 

The snowfall was lightening again, and the 
small flame in the distance looked nearer. He 
put his hands to his mouth and gave a long, clear 
hail. He was answered by a similar one. Then 
followed a peculiar musical call, which Just, 
recognising, answered ecstatically. 

“It’s Jeff*!” he shouted. “Whoop! I’ll bet 
he’s glad to hear us!” 


234 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


He was. He came plunging through the last 
big drift toward them, a snow-encrusted figure. 
“Well, well!” he cried, in tones of pleasure and 
relief. “I knew you’d come. Where are we, 
anyhow ?” 

“A mile oflF the road. Are you all right? I 
see you’ve got a fire. How’s ” 

“Evelyn’s all right, I think. Since we man- 
aged the fire she’s fairly warm again. Plucky as 
any girl in the crowd, and they’re all plucky. 
How are we to get our load down to the road ?” 

“I brought ropes, and we’ve a strong pair back 
there. We’ll go and get them, now that we know 
where you are. You go back to your party and 
prepare them to be rescued.” 

“No, Just can go to the camp, and I’ll keep on 
with you.” 

Just, being entirely willing to accept the part of 
rescuer, plowed on through the big holes Jeff had 
left in his track. Doctor Churchill and Jeff made 
their way back to Charlotte. 

“Yes, we had rather a bad time for a while,” 
admitted Jeff, as he helped Andy make the horses 
ready to start. “ We got pretty cold, and I thought 
we’d never make the fire go. Found the inside of 
an old stump at last, and got her started. Yes, 
all the girls looked after Evelyn — came pretty near 
smothering her. I don’t believe she’s taken cold. 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


235 


The snow’s letting up. I can see our fire back 
there. No, we didn’t see yours; we were just 
tooting on general principles. Evelyn insisted 
she caught a glimmer, and I started out to climb 
a tree to find out. I saw it then, for a minute, and 
was sure it was you. Keep this fire going, Char- 
lotte. The storm may close down again, and we 
want to make straight tracks across the fields.” 

By the time they reached the camp in the fields 
both Jeff and Doctor Churchill were pretty well 
wearied. But they greeted the party there with 
an enthusiasm which matched the welcome they 
received. 

The spirits of the whole company had risen with 
a jump the instant they had caught sight of Just, 
and now, with four horses to pull the ponderous 
sleigh through the drifts, the boys walking by its 
side and the girls tucked snugly in among the 
robes, the whole aspect of things was changed. 
The situation lost seriousness, and although each 
was prepared to make a thrilling tale of it for the 
various family circles when daylight came, nobody 
except Jeff really regretted the experience of the 
night. When they reached Charlotte and the 
smaller sleigh, there was a great chorus of ex- 
planations. She swiftly extracted Evelyn and 
took her in beside herself. 

“ Indeed, yes, I’m warm, Mrs. Churchill,” 


236 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


protested the girl. Her voice showed that she 
was very tired, but her inflection was as cheerful 
as ever. With a hot soapstone at her feet, a 
hot-water bag in her lap and Charlotte’s arm 
about her, she leaned back on the fur-clad shoulder 
beside her and rejoiced. One thing was certain. 
She had had a real Northern good time, with an 
exciting ending, and she was quite willing to be 
tired. 

With the wind at their backs and the fall of 
snow nearly ceased, the party was not a great 
while in getting back to town. The clocks were 
striking five when Charlotte, having put her 
charge to bed, and fed her with hot food and spicy, 
steaming drinks, administered the last pat and 
tuck. “Now you’re not to open your eyes and 
stir until four o’clock this afternoon,” she ad- 
monished her, with decisive tenderness. “Then 
if you’re very good, you may get up and dress in 
time for dinner.” 

“I’ll be good, Mrs. Churchill,” promised 
Evelyn, smiling rather faintly. She fell asleep 
almost before the door closed. 

“You must feel a load off your shoulders,” 
Just observed to Jeff, as the two made ready for 
slumber for the brief time remaining before break- 
fast and the school and college work which would 
then claim them both. 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


237 


“I do. But if Evelyn comes out all right I 
shall be glad I took her. I tell you that girl’s a 
mighty good sort.” 

“I wish Lucy was like her. What do you 
think Pm in for ? Our class reception is for 
Friday night, at the head-master’s house. Doctor 
Agnew’s daughters have met Lucy, and I’m sure 
she gave ’em a hint to invite her to come with me. 
Anyhow, they’ve done it, and of course I’ve got 
to take her.” 

“Oh, well, a fellow has to be civil to a lot of 
girls he doesn’t particularly admire. Lucy’s not 
so bad. She’s rather pretty — when she’s feeling 
amiable — and she certainly dresses well.” 

Jeff’s assertion in the matter of Lucy’s appear- 
ance was proved true. When Just, on Friday 
evening, marched across to the other house, in- 
wardly raging at his fate, he had an agreeable sur- 
prise. As he stood by the fireplace with Char- 
lotte, Lucy came down-stairs and floated in at the 
door. Just stopped in the middle of a sentence 
and stared. 

Being really a very pretty girl, and feeling, at 
the present moment, the height of fluttering 
expectation, her face was illumined into an at- 
tractiveness that was quite a revelation to her 
friends. For the first time Lucy felt herself to be 
in the centre of things, and it made another girl of 


238 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


her. In addition, the evening frock she wore was 
so charming in style and colouring that it contrib- 
uted not a little to the general effect. 

Altogether, Just experienced quite a revulsion 
of feeling in regard to the painful duty before 
him, and came forward to assist Lucy into her 
long coat with considerable alacrity and cheerful- 
ness. 

“Oh, I do love parties so,” she declared, as 
they hurried along the streets. “I’m not used to 
being so dull as Eve been here. It seems to me 
that you have mighty few doings for young people. 
I don’t call candy-pulls and fudge parties real 
parties . ” 

“Probably you won’t call this to-night a real 
party, then. There’s never much that’s exciting 
at Doctor Agnew’s. He always has an orchestra 
playing, and we walk round and talk, and usually 
somebody does something to entertain us — a 
reading or songs. Maybe you won’t think it’s as 
festive as you expect. ” 

“Oh, well, I reckon it will be a nice change,” 
said she, with quite unexpected good humour. 

In the dressing-room Chester Agnew, the son of 
the head-master, came up to Just with an expres- 
sion of mingled pleasure and chagrin. 

“Awfully glad to see you, Birch,” he said. 
“I suppose you noticed that we have no music 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


239 


going to-night. It’s a shame, isn’t it ? Lind- 
mann’s men have been delayed by a freight wreck 
on the P. & Q. They were coming home from a 
wedding down the line somewhere, and tele- 
phoned us they couldn’t get out here before mid- 
night. We’ve tried to get some other music, but 
everything’s engaged somewhere.” 

“Too bad, but it’s no great matter,” Just re- 
plied, comfortably. “ We can worry along without 
the orchestra.” 

“No, you can’t. Mother’s plans for to-night 
were for a series of national dances, in costume, by 
sixteen of the juniors, and that’s all up without 
the music.” 

“Why won’t the piano do ?” 

“We haven’t a piano in the house. Yes, I 
know, but it was Helena’s, and when she was 
married in November she took it with her. Father 
hasn’t bought a new one yet, because the other 
girls don’t play. Now do you see ? You’re in 
for the stupidest evening you’ve had this winter, 
for it’s too late to get anybody here to do any sort 
of entertaining.” 

“That is too bad,” admitted Just, thinking of 
Lucy, and finding himself caring a good deal that 
she should not think the affair dull. He walked 
along the hall with Chester to the point where 
he should meet Lucy, thinking about the 


240 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


situation. Then an idea popped into his head. 

“ Isn’t your telephone in that little closet off the 
dining-room?” he asked. 

“Yes. Want to use it ?” 

“Yes. Take Lucy down, will you ? You know 
her. I’ve just thought of something.” 

Just slipped down to the dining-room. He care- 
fully closed the door of the closet and called up 
Doctor Churchill. To him he rapidly explained 
the situation and the remedy which had occurred 
to him. Doctor Churchill’s voice came back to 
him in a tone of amused surprise. 

“Why, Just, do you think we could carry it 
through decently ? We don’t know the music at 
all. Oh, play our own and make it fit ? What 
sort will do — ordinary waltzes and two-steps ? I 
shouldn’t mind helping them out, of course, if I 
thought we could manage it. Better than noth- 
ing ? Well — possibly. Better consult Mrs. Agnew 
before we do anything rash.” 

Just ran up the rear staircase and down the 
front one. He found Chester and whispered his 
plan. Interrupting Chester’s eager gratitude, he 
asked for somebody who could tell him what 
music would be needed. 

“Mother’s receiving, and so are the girls. 
Carolyn Houghton will know, I think. She’s 
been at the rehearsals. I’ll get her.” 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


241 


“Well, are you going to leave me to myself much 
longer?” Lucy inquired, reproachfully, as Just 
waited silently beside her for Carolyn. 

“Why, I’m awfully sorry,” he said, remem- 
bering his duties, which in the excitement of the 
moment he realised he was forgetting. “I hope 
you’ll excuse me, but I’ve got to help the Agnews 
out if I can. ” And he hurriedly told her his plan. 
She stared at him in astonishment. 

“You don’t mean you would come and take the 
place of a hired orchestra for a reception?” she 
cried, under her breath. 

It was Just’s turn to stare. Then he straight- 
ened shoulders which were already pretty square. 
“Would you mind telling me why not ? That is, 
provided we can do it well enough.” 

“I think it’s a mighty queer thing to do,” 
insisted Lucy, with disapproval. 

Carolyn Houghton appeared and beckoned 
Just and Chester out into the hall. Lucy fol- 
lowed, not liking to be left alone. Everybody 
seemed to be forgetting her, although Chester had 
turned, and said cordially, “That’s right, Miss 
Lucy! Come and help us plan.” 

Carolyn lost no time. “It’s fine of you,” she 
said eagerly. “Yes, I’m sure you can do it. 
Not one person in fifty will know whether the 
tunes you play are national or not. Something 


242 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


quaint and queer for the Hungarian, and jigsy and 
gay for the Irish. Castanets in the Spanish dance 
— have you them ?” 

“Young Randolph Peyton can work those,” 
began Just, looking at Lucy. 

She frowned. “Really, I don’t believe you’d 
better have him in it,” she said, with such an air 
that Carolyn glanced at her in amazement, and 
Chester coughed and turned away. 

“Oh, very well!” Just answered, instantly. 
“You can do ’em yourself, then, Ches.” 

“All right,” said Chester. “There is a big 
screen of palms and ferns for the orchestra,” 
he explained, with satisfaction, to Lucy. “No- 
body’ll know who’s performing, anyhow.” 

“Oh!” said Lucy. 

Carolyn had soon convinced Just that the little 
home orchestra could undertake the music with- 
out much fear of failure. 

“Of course there’s a chance that the change 
may put the dancers out, yet I don’t think so. I 
noticed it was rather simple music, and they’re so 
well drilled they’re not very dependent on the 
music. Anyhow, people will be too interested 
in the costumes and the steps to notice whether 
the music is strictly appropriate. As long as you 
give them something in precisely the right time, 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


243 

I don’t believe the change will bother them. I 
can coach you on that.” 

“All right,” and Just hurried back to the 
telephone. 

Within three-quarters of an hour he had them 
all there, a laughing crew, ready for what struck 
them as a frolic for themselves. Chester Agnew 
carried the instruments behind the screen, and 
managed to slip the members of the new orchestra 
one by one from the dining-room doorway to the 
shelter of the palms without anybody’s being the 
wiser. In ten minutes more soft music began to 
steal through the crowded rooms. 

“The orchestra has come, after all,” said Mrs. 
Agnew to her husband, in the front room. Her 
voice breathed relief. 

He nodded satisfaction. “So I hear. I don’t 
know how they managed it, but I accept the fact 
without question.” 

“Do you think it’s always safe to do that?” 
queried his son Chester, coming up in time to 
hear. 

“Accept facts without question ? What else 
can you do with facts ?” 

“But if they should turn out not to be facts ?” 

“In this case I have the evidence of my ears,” 
returned the learned man, comfortably, and Ches- 
ter walked away again, his eyes dancing. 


244 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


“ Nobody can tell you from Lindmann,” he 
whispered, behind the screen, during an interval. 

“That’s good. Hope the delusion keeps up. 
We don’t feel much like Lindmann,” returned 
Churchill, hastily turning over a pile of music. 
“Get your crowd to talking as loud as it can — * 
then we’re comparatively safe. Where’s the 
second violin part of ‘King Manfred’? Look 
out, Just — you hit my elbow twice with your bow- 
arm last time. These quarters are a bit — There 
you are, Charlotte. Now take this thing slow, 
and look to your phrasing. All ready!” 

The costume dances did not come until after 
supper. By that time the Churchills and Birches, 
behind the screen, had settled down to steady 
work. During supper a violin, with the ’cello and 
bass, carried on the music, while Doctor Church- 
ill, Celia and Carolyn Houghton planned a 
substitute programme for the dances. 

In two cases they found the original music 
familiar; in most of the others it proved not very 
difficult to adapt other music. The leaders of the 
dances were told that whatever happened they 
were to carry through their parts without showing 
signs of distress. 

“It’s a pretty big bluff,” murmured Jeff, lean- 
ing back in his chair and mopping a perspiring 
brow. “Phew-w, but it’s hot in here! I expect to 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


245 


see several of those crazy dances go all to 
pieces on our account. That Highland Fling! 
Mind you keep up a ripping time on that. It 
ought to be piped, not stringed.” 

Nevertheless, in spite of a good deal of pertur- 
bation on the part of both dancers and orchestra, 
the entertainment went off well enough to be 
applauded heartily. Certain numbers, notably 
the South Carolina breakdown, the Irish jig, and 
the minuet of Washington’s time, “brought down 
the house,” presumably because the music fitted 
best and bothered the dancers least. 

When it was over, the musicians expected to 
escape before they were found out, thinking the fun 
would be the greater if the Agnews did not learn 
to whom they were indebted until later. But 
young Chester Agnew defeated this. He in- 
structed half-a-dozen of his friends, and as the 
final strains were coming to a close, these boys 
laid hold of the wall of palms and pulled it to 
pieces. The musicians, laughing and protesting, 
were shown to the entire company. 

A great murmur of surprise was followed by 
a burst of applause and laughter, in the midst of 
which Doctor and Mrs. Agnew hurried to the 
front, followed by their daughters, who had al- 
ready discovered the truth, but had been warned 
by their brother to keep quiet about it. 


246 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


“ My dear friends ! ” exclaimed the head- 
master. “Is it possible that it is you who have 
filled the gap so successfully ? Well, really, what 
shall we say to such kindness ?” 

“Mrs. Churchill — Doctor Churchill — Miss 
Birch — all of you,” Mrs Agnew was saying, in 
her surprise, “what a very lovely thing to do! It 
has been too kind of you. We appreciate it more 
than we can tell you. You must come out at 
once and have some supper.” 

“The evening would have been spoiled with- 
out you!” cried Jessica Agnew, and Isabel said 
the same thing. Chester was loud in his praises, 
and indeed, the orchestra received an ovation 
which quite overwhelmed it. It a went out to 
supper presently, escorted by at least twenty 
young people. 

“Here, come and sit by me, Lucy,” invited 
Just, in good humour at the success of his plan. 
“You can keep handing me food as I consume it. 
I never was so starved in my life. Well, have you 
had a good time ? Sorry I had to desert you, but 
Tve no doubt the others introduced you round 
and saw that you weren’t neglected.” 

“I think Chester Agnew is one of the hand- 
somest boys I ever met,” whispered Lucy. 
“Hasn’t he the loveliest eyes? He was just 
devoted to me,” 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


247 


Just turned, his mouth full of chicken pate , and 
regarded her with interest. “Yes, his eyes are 
wonders, ” he agreed, his own twinkling. “Full 
of soul, and all that, you mean ? Yes, they are, 
though I never noticed it till you pointed it out. ” 

Lucy looked at him suspiciously. 

“He liked my dress,” she went on. 

“Did, eh? Ches must be coming on. Never 
knew him to notice a girl’s dress before.” 

“I saw him looking at it,” — Lucy’s tone was 
impressive — “and asked if he liked pink. He 
said it was his favourite colour.” 

“H’m! I must take lessons of Ches.” 

“He looked at me so much I was awfully em- 
barrassed,” said Lucy, under her breath, with 
drooping eyes. 

Just favoured her with another curious glance. 
“Maybe he’s never seen just your kind before,” 
he suggested. “Lucy, by the time you’re twenty 
you’ll be quite an old hand at this society business, 
won’t you?” 

“What makes you think so?” she asked, not 
sure whether to be gratified or not. 

“Oh, your small talk is so — well, so — er 
— interesting. A fellow always likes to hear 
about another fellow — about his eyes, and soon.” 

“Oh, you mustn’t be jealous,” said Lucy, with 
a glance which finished Just. He choked in his 


24 $ 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


napkin, and turned his attention to Carolyn 
Houghton, on his other side. 

But when he went to bed that night he once 
more gave vent to his feelings on the subject of his 
sister’s guest. 

“Jeff,” said he, “if a girl has absolutely no 
brains in her head, what do you suppose occupies 
the cavity ? ” 

“Give it up,” returned Jeff, sleepily. 

“I think it must be a substance of about the 
consistency of a marshmallow,” mused Just, 
thoughtfully. “I detest marshmallows,” he 
added, with some resentment. 

“Oh, go to bed!” murmured Jeff. 


CHAPTER VII 


^^OBODY at home, eh? Well, I’m sorry. 

I wanted to see somebody very much. 
And there’s no one at the other house, 
either. I’m away so much I see altogether too 
little of these people, Mrs. Fields.” Thus spoke 
Doctor Forester of the city — the old friend and 
family counselor of both Birches and Churchills. 

His son Frederic — who had managed since his 
return from study abroad to see much more of the 
Birch household than his father — was watching the 
conversation on the door-step from his position in 
the driver’s place on Doctor Forester’s big auto- 
mobile, which stood at the curb. It was a cool 
day in May, and a light breeze was blowing. 

“I don’t know but Miss Evelyn’s in the house 
somewhere,” admitted Mrs. Fields. “But I 
don’t suppose you’d care to see her ?” 

“ Miss Evelyn ? Why, certainly I should ! 
Please ask her to come down.” 

So presently Evelyn was at the door, her slender 
hand in the big one of the distinguished gentleman 
of whom she stood a little in awe. 

“All alone, Miss Evelyn ?” said Doctor Forester. 

249 


250 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


“Then suppose you get your hat and a warm 
jacket and come with us. Fred and I expected to 
pick up whomever we found and take them for a 
little run down to a certain place on the river. ” 

Such an invitation was not to be resisted. 
Doctor Churchill and Charlotte were at the 
hospital; Randolph was with them, visiting his 
friends and proteges among the convalescent 
boys. Lucy had gone to town with the Birches, 
and nobody knew where Jeff and Just might be. 

“Suppose you sit back in the tonneau with me,” 
Doctor Forester suggested. “Fred likes to be the 
whole thing on the front seat there.” 

He put Evelyn in and tucked her up. 
“Wearing a cap ? That’s good sense. It spoils 
my fun to take in a passenger with all sails spread. 
Hello, son, what are you stopping for ? Oh, I see!” 

It was Celia Birch beside whom the motor was 
bringing up with such a sudden check to its speed. 
She had appeared at the corner of the street and 
had instantly presented to the quick vision of Mr. 
Frederic Forester a good and sufficient reason for 
coming to a stop. 

“Please come with us!” urged that young man, 
jumping out. “ We’ve been to the house for you. ” 

Celia put her hand to her head, “ J ust as I am ? ” 
she asked. 

“Just as you are. That little chapeau will stay 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


251 


on all right. If it doesn’t I’ll lend you my cap. 
Will you keep me company in front ? Father has 
appropriated Miss Evelyn behind there.” 

Celia mounted to the seat, and they were off 
through the wide streets, and presently away in 
the country, spinning along at a rate much faster 
than either passenger realised. The machine was 
a fine one, operating with so little fuss and fret 
that the speed it was capable of attaining was not 
always appreciated. 

“Oh, this is glorious, isn’t it, Evelyn?” cried 
Celia, over her shoulder. 

Doctor Forester glanced from her to the young 
girl on the seat beside him, smiling at both. “ I’m 
glad you put your trust in the chauffeur so im- 
plicitly. It took me some time to get used to him, 
but he proves worthy of confidence. I wouldn’t 
drive my own machine a block — never have. 
Yes, it’s delightful to go whirling along over the 
country in this way. I suppose you don’t know 
where I’m taking you?” 

“I don’t think we much care,” Celia answered, 
and Evelyn nodded. Both were pink-cheeked and 
bright-eyed with the delight of the motion. 

The doctor did not explain where they were 
going until they had nearly reached their desti- 
nation. They had passed many fine country 
places all along the way, and had reached a fork 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


252 

in the river. The broad road leading on up the 
river was left behind as they turned to the left, 
following the windings of the smaller stream. 

The character of the houses along the way had 
changed at once. They had become comfortable 
farmhouses, with now and then a place of more 
modern aspect. 

“This is the sort of thing I prefer,” Doctor 
Forester announced, with satisfaction. “ I wouldn’t 
give a picayune to own one of those castles, 
back there. But down here I’m going to show 
you my ideal of comfort.” 

Fred turned in at a gateway and drove on 
through orchards and grove to a house behind the 
trees on the river bank. 

“Doesn’t that look like home?” exclaimed the 
doctor, as they alighted. “Well, it is home! I 
bought it yesterday, just as it stands. Nothing 
fine about it, outside or in. I wanted it to run 
away to when I’m tired. I’m not going to tell 
anybody about it except ” 

“Except every one he meets,” Fred said, gaily, 
to Celia, leading her toward the wide porch over- 
looking the river, about which the May vines were 
beginning to cluster profusely. “He can’t keep 
it a secret. I may as well warn you he’s going to 
invite you and the whole family out here for a fort- 
night in June. So if you don’t want to come you 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 253 

have a chance to be thinking up a reasonable 
excuse.” 

“As if we could want one! What a charming 
plan for us! Does he really mean to include all 
of us?” 

“Every one, under both roofs. I assure you 
it’s a jolly plan for us, and Em holding my breath 
till I know you’ll come.” 

“What a lovely rest it will be for Charlotte!” 
murmured Celia, thinking at once, as usual, of 
somebody else. “She won’t own it, but she’s 
really had a pretty hard winter.” 

“So I should imagine, for the first year of one’s 
married life. I’m afraid I couldn’t be as hos- 
pitable as she and her husband — not all at once, 
you know. Do you think it’s paid ?” 

“What ? Having the three through the winter ?” 
Celia glanced at Evelyn, who at the other end of the 
long porch with Doctor Forester was gazing with 
happy eyes out over the sunlit river. “Oh, 
I’m sure Charlotte and Andy would both say 
so. In Evelyn’s case I think there’s no doubt 
about it. From being a delicate little invalid she’s 
come to be the healthy girl you see there. Not 
very vigorous yet, of course, but in a fair way to 
become so, Andy thinks.” 

“Yes, I can see,” admitted Forester, thought- 
fully. “But those other youngsters ” 


254 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


Celia laughed. It was easy to think well of 
everybody out here in this delicious air and in the 
company of people she thoroughly liked. Even 
Lucy Peyton seemed less of an infliction. 

“Little Ran has certainly improved very much,” 

she said, warmly. “And even Lucy ” 

“Has Lucy improved?” Forester looked at 
her with a quizzical smile. “The last time I saw 
her I thought she was rather going backward. I 
met her by accident in town one day. Charlotte 
was shopping, and Lucy was waiting. Sh^ rushed 
up to me as to a long lost friend. She prac- 
tically invited me to invite herself and Charlotte to 
lunch with me — she somewhat grudgingly included 
Charlotte. I was rather taken off my feet for an 
instant. Charlotte heard, and came up. I wish 
you could have seen the expression on the face of 
Mrs. Andrew Churchill! I don’t know which 
felt the more crushed, Lucy or I. I assure you I 
was anxious to take them both to lunch after that, 
Mrs. Andrew had made it so clearly impossible.” 

“The perversity of human desires,” laughed 
Celia. “Poor Lucy! Charlotte won’t stand the 
child’s absurd affectations. ” 

“Come here, and listen to my plan!” called 
Doctor Forester, unable to wait longer to unfold it. 
So for the next half-hour the plan was discussed 
in all its bearings. 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


255 


Celia proposed at once that they keep it a secret 
from Charlotte until the last possible moment, and 
this was agreed upon. Then Evelyn suggested, a 
little shyly, that it also remain unknown to Jeff. 
He was to be graduated from college about the 
middle of June, was very busy and hurried, and 
might appreciate the whole thing better when Com- 
mencement was out of the way. It was finally de- 
cided that the party should come down to “The 
Banks” upon the evening of Jeff’s Commence- 
ment Day, and that to him and Charlotte the whole 
arrangement should be a complete surprise. 

The date was only three weeks ahead, and Celia 
and Evelyn, Mrs. Birch and the others, found 
plenty to do in getting ready for the outing, to say 
nothing of seeing that neither Charlotte nor Jeff 
made other engagements for the period. 

“No, no, let’s not get in our camping so early 
in the season. It’ll be all over too soon, then,” 
argued Just with his brother. Upon Just de- 
volved the task of heading Jeff off for those pros- 
pective two weeks. “ Besides, I’ve an idea Lanse 
may prefer July or August.” 

“ If you’d been boning for examinations the way 
I have,” retorted Jeff, “your one idea would be to 
get off into the wilderness just as soon as your 
sheepskin was fairly in your hands. I don’t see 


256 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


why you argue against going in June. You were 
eager enough for it a week ago.” 

“Oh, not so awfully eager. I ” 

“You were in a frenzy to go. And I haven’t 
cooled off, if you have. ” 

“He’s hopeless,” Just confided to Evelyn. 
“His granite mind is set on going camping in June, 
and I can’t get him off it. If you’ve any little tricks 
of .persuasiveness all your own now’s your time to 
try ’em on him. He’ll spoil the whole thing. ” 
“Write your brother Lansing to tell Jeff to put 
it off on his account,” suggested Evelyn. 

“That won’t do, unfortunately, for Lanse has 
been uncertain about going all the time. ” 

“I’ll try to think of something,” promised 
Evelyn. 

She had a chance before the day was over. Jeff 
appeared, late in the afternoon, and invited her to 
take a walk with him. 

“I’ll tell you what I want,” he said, as they 
went along. “ Let’s go down by the old bridge at 
the pond, and if there’s nobody about I’d like to 
have you do me the favour of listening while I 
spout my class-day oration. Would you mind ?” 

“I shall be delighted,” answered Evelyn, and 
this program was carried out accordingly. Down 
behind the willows Jeff mounted a prostrate log 
and gave vent to a vigorous and sincere discourse. 



Courtesy of “ The Youth’s Companion.” 


“Jeff mounted a prostrate log and gave vent to a vigorous and 
sincere discourse.” 




THE SECOND VIOLIN 


2 57 


“ Splendid !” cried his audience, as he finished. 
“ If you do it half as well as that it will be a great 
success.” 

“Glad you think so.” Jeff descended from the 
log with a flushed brow and an air of relief. “ I’m 
not the fellow for class orator, I know, but I’m it, 
and I don’t want to disgrace the crowd. Pretty 
down here, isn’t it ?” 

“Beautiful. It makes me very blue to think 
of leaving it — as if I oughtn’t to be simply thank- 
ful I could be here so long. It was lovely of your 
sister and brother to insist on my staying when my 
brother Thorne had to go to Japan so suddenly.” 

“You’re not going soon?” Jeff looked dis- 
mayed. 

“Two weeks after your Commencement,” said 
Evelyn. “My brother’s ship should be in port 
by the last of June, and I want to surprise him by 
being at home when he reaches there. I shall 
leave here the minute he gets into San Francisco.” 

“Oh, that’s too bad. I’d forgotten there was' 
any such thing as your going away. You seem — 
why, you seem one of us, you know!” declared 
Jeff, as if there could be no stronger bond of 
union. 

“Oh, thank you— it’s good of you to say so. 
You’ve all been so kind I can’t half tell you how I 
appreciate it. We’ll have to make the most of 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


258 

June, I think,” said Evelyn, smiling rather wist- 
fully, and looking away across the little pond. 

“ I should say so. We’ll have every sort of lark 
we can think of the minute Commencement’s — 
Oh, I was going camping after that — but I’ll put it 
off*. Just was arguing that way only this morning, 
but I saw no good reason for waiting, then. Now, 
I do.” 

“Fm sorry to have you put it off,” protested 
Evelyn, with art. “Hadn’t you better go on with 
your plans, if they’re all made ? Of course I 
should be sorry, but ” 

“Oh, I’ll put it off!” said Jeff, decidedly, with 
the very human wish to do the thing he need not 
do. 

So it was settled. Commencement came rap- 
idly on, bringing with it the round of festivals pe- 
culiar to that season. Jeff insisted on the presence 
of his entire family at every event, and for a week, 
as Charlotte said, it seemed as if they all lived in 
flowered organdies and white gloves. 

“Fm really thankful this is the last,” sighed 
Celia, coming over with her mother and Just to 
join the party assembling for the final great occa- 
sion on the Churchill’s porch. “Evelyn, how 
dear you look in that forget-me-not frock! And 
that hat is a dream.” 

“Well, people, we must be off. When it’s 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


259 


all over, let’s come out here on the porch in the 
dark and luxuriate. ” Charlotte drew a long breath 
as she spoke. 

“That will be a rest,” agreed Celia, with a 
private pinch of Evelyn’s arm, and Lucy and 
Randolph giggled. 

The younger two had been let into the secret 
only within the last twenty-four hours, fears being 
entertained that they might not be safe reposi- 
tories of mystery. Celia gave them a warning look 
as she passed them, and kept them away from 
Charlotte during the car ride into the city. 

“How well the dear boy looks!” whispered his 
family, one to another, as the class filed into the 
university chapel in cap and gown. They were in a 
front row, where Jeff could look down at them when 
he should come upon the stage for his diploma. 

There was not the slightest possibility of his 
looking either there or anywhere else. His 
oration had been delivered on class day, and his 
remaining part in the exercises of graduation was 
to listen respectfully to the distinguished gentle- 
men who took part, and to watch with interested 
eyes the conferring of many higher degrees before 
it was time for himself and his class to receive the 
sonorous Latin address which ended by bestow- 
ing upon them the title of Bachelor of Arts. 

It was a proud moment, nevertheless, and many 


260 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


hearts beat high when it came. Down in that row 
near the front father and mother, brothers and 
sisters and friends, watched a certain erect figure 
as if there were no others worth looking at — as all 
over the hall other affectionate eyes watched other 
youthful, manly forms. 

Jeff had worked hard for his degree, being not 
by nature a student, like his elder brother Lansing, 
but fonder of active, outdoor life than of books. 
He had been incited to deeds of valour in the class- 
room only by the grim determination not to dis- 
grace the family traditions or the scholarly ances- 
tors to whom he had often been pointed back. 

“Thank heaven it’s over!” exulted Jeff, with 
his classmates, when, after the last triumphant 
speech of the evening, the audience was dismissed 
to the strains of a rejoicing orchestra. 

“Say, fellows, I’m going to bolt. Hullo, Just! 
Ask Evelyn for me if she won’t go home flying 
with me in the Houghton auto — Carolyn’s just 
sent me word.” 

“That will be just the thing,” whispered Celia 
to Evelyn, when the message came. “Go with 
him, but don’t let him stop at the Houghtons’. 
Whisper it to Carolyn, and see that he’s safely 
on the porch with you when we get there.” 

Evelyn nodded and disappeared with Just, who 
took her to his brother. 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


261 

“Now we’re off,” murmured Jeff, as he and 
Evelyn followed Carolyn and her brother out 
through a side entrance. “What a night! What 
a moon! My, but it feels good to be out in the 
open air after that pow-wow in there!” 

They had half an hour to themselves in the 
quiet of the moonlit porch before the others, com- 
ing by electric car, could reach home. 

They filled the time by sitting quietly on the top 
step, Jeff in the subdued mood of the young grad- 
uate who sees, after all, much to regret in the com- 
ing to an end of the years of getting ready for his 
life-work. He was, besides, not a little wearied 
by the final examinations, preparation for his part 
in Commencement, and the closing round of ex- 
ercises. Evelyn, herself somewhat fatigued, leaned 
back against the porch pillar and gladly kept 
silence. 

Before the others came Jeff spoke abruptly. 
“ It isn’t everybody who knows when to let a fellow 
be an oyster,” he said, gratefully. “But I’m 
getting over the oyster mood now, and feel like 
talking. Do you know, you’re going to leave an 
awful vacancy behind you when you go?” 

“Oh, no,” Evelyn answered. “There are so 
many of you, and you have such good times to- 
gether, you can’t mind much when a stranger goes 
away, 


262 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


“Call yourself that?” Jeff laughed. “Well 
I assure you we don’t. You’re too thoroughly 
one of us — in the way of liking the things we like 
and despising the things we despise. Hullo, here 
come the people! It was rather stealing a march 
on them to race home in an auto and let them 
follow by car, wasn’t it?’ Let’s go make ’em 
some lemonade to cheer their souls. ” 

“All right.” Evelyn was wondering if this 
would give her the necessary chance to change her 
dress, when the big Forester automobile rounded 
the corner and rolled up to the curb, just as the 
party from the car reached the steps. Behind it 
followed a second car of still more ample 
dimensions. 

“ I’ve come to take the whole party for a moon- 
light drive down the river!” called Frederic For- 
ester. “Go take off those cobweb frocks and put 
on something substantial. I’ll give you ten min- 
utes. I’ve the prettiest sight to show you you’ve 
seen this year.” 

“I believe I’m too tired and sleepy to go,” said 
Charlotte to Andy, as he followed her up-stairs. 
“This week of commencing has about finished 
me. Can’t you excuse me to Fred? You go 
with them, if you like.” 

“ I don’t like, without you. ” Doctor Churchill 
was divesting himself of white cravat and collar. 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


263 

“I know you’re worn out, dear, but I think the 
ride will brace you up. It’s hot in the house to- 
night; it will be blissfully cool out on the river 
road. Besides, Forester would be disappointed. It 
isn’t every night he comes for us with a pair of autos. 

“If I were going all alone with you in the run- 
about — "sighed Charlotte, with a languor unusual 
to her. i 

“I know; I’d like that better myself. But you 
needn’t talk on this trip — there are enough to keep 
things lively without you. You shall sit next your 
big boy, and he’ll hold your hand in the dark," 
urged Doctor Churchill, artfully. 

“On that condition, then," and Charlotte rose 
from among the pillows, where she had sunk. 

There was certainly something very refreshing 
about the swift motion in the June air. Leaning 
against her husband’s shoulder, Charlotte began 
to rest. 

It had been a busy week, the heat had been of 
that first unbearable high temperature of mid- 
June with which some seasons assault us, and 
young Mrs. Churchill had felt her responsibilities 
more heavily than ever before. As the car flew 
down the river road she shut her eyes. 

“Why, where are we turning in?" Charlotte 
opened her eyes. She had been almost asleep, 
soothed by the cool and quiet. 


264 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


“Look ahead through the trees,” Doctor 
Churchill said in her ear, and Charlotte sat up. 

She saw on the river bank, far ahead, a low house 
with long porches, hung thickly with Chinese 
lanterns. Each window glowed with one of the 
swinging globes, and long lines of them stretched 
off among the trees. At one side gleamed two 
white tents, and in front of these burned bonfires. 

“What is it? It must be a lawn party. But 
we’re not dressed for it!” murmured Charlotte, 
her eyes wide open now. 

Just then a tremendous shout from the auto- 
mobile in front rang through the grove. Their 
own car ran up to the steps, where stood Doctor 
Forester and John Lansing Birch under the lan- 
terns, both dressed from head to foot in white. 

“Welcome to ‘The Banks!’ ” the doctor cried. 
“Charlotte, my dear, why this expression of amaze- 
ment ? You’ve only come to my house party, my 
woods party, my river party — for a fortnight — all 
of you. Will you stay, or are you going to sit 
staring down at us with those big black eyes 
forever ?” 

“I think I’ll stay,” said Charlotte, happily, 
slipping down from the car into her brother’s 
outstretched arms. “O Lanse! O Lanse! It’s 
good to see you. What a surprise!” 


CHAPTER VIII 


^^HARLOTTE swung herself up into the 
runabout as Doctor Churchill paused for 
her at the gateway of “The Banks.” She 
had met him here at six o’clock every day since 
they came, and this was the seventh day. 

It was impossible for him to get through his 
round of work earlier, but he was enjoying his 
evenings and nights in the country with a zest 
almost sufficient to make up for the daytime hours 
he missed. 

Charlotte, however, although she joined merrily 
in all that went on through the day, was never so 
happy as when this hour arrived, and dressed in 
cool white for the evening, she could slip away and 
walk slowly down this winding road through the 
orchard and the grove to the gateway. Here she 
waited in a shady nook for the first puff of the 
coming motor. The moment she heard it she 
sprang out into the roadway, and stood waving her 
handkerchief in response to a swinging cap far up 
the road. 

Then came the nearer salutation, the quick 
climb into the small car, assisted by the grip of 

265 


266 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


Andy’s hand, and the eager greeting of two pairs of 
eyes. 

“Do you know this outing is doing you a world 
of good already?” said Doctor Churchill, noting 
with approval the fresh colour in Charlotte’s face. 

“I know it is. I didn’t realise that I needed it a 
bit until I actually found myself here, with nothing 
to do except rest and play. It’s doing everybody 
good. You should have heard the plans at break- 
fast to-day. Although it’s been so hot, nobody 
has been idle a minute. I’ve been fishing all day 
with Lanse and Fred and Celia. Andy, do you 
know what I think ? I admit I didn’t think it till 
Lanse put it into my head, but I believe he’s right. 
Fred ” 

“Is going to want Celia ? Of course. That was 
a foregone conclusion from the start.” 

“ Andy Churchill, you weren’t so discerning as all 
that, when not even I thought it was serious with 
either of them! Celia’s had so many admirers, and 
turned them all aside so coolly — and Mr. Frederic 
Forester is such an accomplished person at paying 
attentions — how could I think it meant anything ? 
But Lanse insists Celia is different from what she 
ever was before, and I don’t know but he’s right.” 

“To be sure he’s right. Next to you, I never 
saw a more attractive young person than Celia. 
What a charming colour you have, child! To be 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


267 


sure, you have burned the tip of that small Greek 
nose a very little, but I find even that adorable. 
Charlotte, stop pinching my arm. If you’re half 
as glad to have me get here as I am to arrive, you’re 
pretty happy. I laid stern commands on Mrs. 
Fields not to telephone, unless it were a matter of 
absolute necessity, so I’m pretty sure of not being 
disturbed.” 

They found supper laid on the piazza, and en- 
joyed it with keen appetites. Afterward they 
spent an hour drifting on the river, followed by a 
long and delightful evening on the lawn at the 
river bank. Celia and Lanse picked the strings of 
violin and viola, and the others sang. Doctor 
Forester, in his white clothes lay stretched on a 
rustic seat, and professed himself to be having “the 
time of his life.” 

“I don’t think the rest of us are far behind 
you,” declared Lanse. “If you people had been 
digging away at law in a hot old office you’d think 
this was Paradise.” 

Evelyn, looking out over the moonlit river, drew 
a little sigh which she meant nobody to hear, but 
Jeff divined it, and whispered, under cover of an 
extravaganza from Just in regard to the night, the 
company, and the occasion, “You’re coming again 
next summer, you know. And all winter we’ll 
write about it — shall we ?” 


268 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


“Do you think you will have time to write ?” 
she asked. 

“Have time! I should say I would make time,” 
he murmured. “Think I’m going to stand having 
this sort of thing cut off short ? I guess not — un- 
less — you’re the one who hasn’t time. And even 
then I don’t think I could be kept from boring you 
with letters.” 

“ I shall certainly want to hear what you all are 
doing,” she answered. 

She was thinking about this plan when she went 
up-stairs to bed an hour later. Jeff had stopped 
her at the foot of the stairs to say, “I’d just like a 
good secure promise from you about that letter- 
writing. I’ll enjoy the time that’s left a lot better 
if I know it isn’t coming to a regular jumping-off 
place at the end. Will you promise to write 
regularly ?” 

She paused on the bottom step, where she was 
just on a level with the straightforward dark eyes, 
half boy’s, half man’s, which met hers with the 
clear look of good comradeship. There was no 
sentimentality in the gaze, but undeniably strong 
liking and respect. She answered in Jeff’s own 
spirit: 

“I promise. I really shouldn’t know how to 
do without hearing about your plans and the 
things that happen to you. I’m not a very good 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 269 

letter-writer, but I’ll try to tell you things that will 
interest you.” 

“Good! I’m no flowery expert myself, but I 
fancy we can write as we talk, and that’s enough 
for me. Good-night! Happy dreams.” 

“Good-night!” she responded, and went on 
up-stairs, turning to wave at Jeff from the landing, 
as he stood in the doorway, preparing to go out to 
the tents where he and Just, Doctor Forester, 
Frederic and Lanse were spending these dry June 
nights. 

Evelyn went on to the odd old bedroom under 
the gable, where she and Lucy were quartered 
together. She found Lucy lying so still that she 
thought her asleep, and so made ready for bed with 
speed and quiet, remembering that Lucy had been 
first to come in, and imagining her tired with the 
day’s sports. 

Evelyn herself did not go at once to sleep. 
There were too many pleasant things to think of 
for that; and although her eyes began to close at 
last, she was yet, at the end of half an hour, awake, 
when Lucy stirred softly beside her and sat up in 
bed. After a moment the younger girl slipped out 
to the floor, using such care that Evelyn thought 
her making unusual and kindly effort not to disturb 
her bedfellow. 

After a little, as Lucy did not return, Evelyn 


270 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


opened her eyes and looked out into the moonlight. 
Lucy was dressing, so rapidly and noiselessly that 
Evelyn watched her, amazed. 

She was on the point of asking if the girl were ill 
when she observed that Lucy was putting on the 
delicate dress and gay ribbons she had worn during 
the evening, and was even arranging her hair. 
Something prompted Evelyn to lie still, for in all 
the winter’s association she had never grown quite 
to trust Lucy or to like her ways. 

More than any one else, however, she herself 
had won the other girl’s liking, and had come to 
feel a certain responsibility for her. So when 
Lucy, after making wholly ready, had stolen to 
the door, let herself out, and closed it silently be- 
hind her, Evelyn sprang out of bed. 

Perhaps Lucy simply could not sleep, she said 
to herself, and had gone down to sit on the lower 
porch, or lie in one of the hammocks swinging 
under the trees. The night was exceedingly 
warm, even the usual cooling breath from the 
river being absent. 

“That’s all there is of it,” said Evelyn, reas- 
suringly, to herself, although at the same time she 
felt uneasiness enough to send her out into the hall 
to a gable window over the porch, which com- 
manded a view of the camp. Nothing stirring 
was to be seen, except the dwindling flame of the 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


271 


evening camp-fire, burned every night for cheer, 
not for warmth. Evelyn crept to a side window. 
As she reached it a white figure could be seen 
hurrying away through the orchard. 

Back in her room, Evelyn dressed with as much 
haste as Lucy had done, if with less care. Instead 
of the white frock of the evening, however, she 
put on a dark blue linen, for she was sure that she 
must follow Lucy and discover what this strange 
departure, stealthily made at midnight, could 
mean. 

She went down to the front door. The moment 
she opened it a tall figure started up from one of 
the long lounging chairs there, and Jeff’s voice 
said softly, “Charlotte?” 

“ No, it’s Evelyn, ” she whispered back. “ Don’t 
be surprised. I thought everybody in the camp 
was asleep.” 

“I wasn’t sleepy, and thought I’d lounge here 
till I was. What’s the matter? Anybody sick?” 

“No. I’m just going for a little walk.” 

“Walk? At this hour? Can’t you sleep? But 
you mustn’t go and walk alone, you know. I’ll 
go with you.” 

She did not want to tell him, but she saw no 
other way. 

“It’s Lucy,” she explained hurriedly. “She’s 
dressed and gone out somewhere, and I can’t 


272 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


think why. It frightened me, and I’m going to 
follow her.” 

“No, you stay here and I’ll follow. Which way 
did she go ? What can she be up to ? That girl’s a 
queer one, and I’ve thought so from the first.” 

“No, no! There’s some explanation. It may 
be she walks in her sleep, you know — though 
I’m sure she’s never done it this winter. Let 
me go, Jeff; she’ll get too far. She took the path 
toward the river. Oh, if it should be sleep- 
walking ” 

“I guess it’s not sleep-walking.” Jeff’s tone 
was skeptical. 

But Evelyn had started away at a run, and Jeff 
was after her. The two hastened along with light, 
noiseless steps. At the bottom of the path, on the 
very brink of the river, was an old summer-house, 
looking out over the water. It was a favourite re- 
treat, for the boat-house and the landing were but 
a rod away, and after a row on the river the shaded 
summer-house was a pleasant place in which to 
linger. 

“Hush!” breathed Evelyn, stopping short as 
they neared the summer-house. 

They advanced with caution, and presently, 
as they drew within speaking distance of the little 
structure, they saw a white-clad figure emerge 
from it and stand just outside. Jeff drew Evelyn 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


273 

quickly and silently into the shelter of a cluster of 
hemlocks. 

After a space the dip of oars lightly broke the 
stillness of the night, and soon a row-boat pulled 
quietly into view, with one dark figure outlined 
against the gleam of the moonlit water. Evelyn 
caught a smothered sound from Jeff, whether of 
recognition or of displeasure she could not tell. 
She felt her own pulses throbbing with excitement 
and anxiety. 

The stranger pulled in to the landing, noise- 
lessly shipped his oars, jumped out and made fast. 
Lucy came cautiously down to the wharf, and 
against the radiance of the moonlight on the river 
the two behind the trees could see the greeting. 

The slight, boyish figure which met Lucy had a 
familiar look to Jeff, but he could not tell with any 
certainty whose it might be. That it was youthful 
there could be no question. Even in the dim 
light the diffidence of both boy and girl could be 
plainly observed. 

“Young idiots!” exploded Jeff, between his 
teeth, as the two they were watching sat down side 
by side on the steps of the boat-landing, where 
only their heads were visible to the watchers — 
heads decidedly close together. Then he bent 
close to Evelyn’s ear and whispered, “Come 
farther back with me, and we’ll decide what to do. ” 


274 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


With the utmost caution the two made their 
retreat. At a safe distance Jeff halted, and said 
rapidly, “ I think the best thing will be for you to 
go back to bed and to sleep — if you can. At any 
rate, don’t let her know that you hear her come in. 
I’ll come back here and mount guard. I won’t let 
them see me. I’ll take care that Lucy gets safely 
back to the house, and I won’t interfere unless she 
attempts to go off in the boat with him or do some 
fool thing like that. You needn’t worry. They 
aren’t going to run away and get married. She’s 
just full of sentimental nonsense, and thinks it 
romantic and grown-up to steal out in the night to 
meet some idiot of a boy — you can see that’s all he 
is by his build. Probably somebody we know, 
don’t you think that’s the best plan ?” 

“ Yes, for to-night,” agreed Evelyn, in a troubled 
whisper. “I feel as if I ought to talk to her when 
she comes in, though.” 

“If you do you’ll just make her angry. The 
thing is to let her go uncaught until we can think 
what to do. Little simpleton!” 

“I’ll do as you say, but — don’t be hard on 
her, Jeff. She’s just silly; she hasn’t been brought 
up like your sisters.” 

“Or like you,” thought Jeff, as he watched the 
figure before him flit away toward the house. He 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


275 

followed at a distance, till he saw the door close on 
Evelyn; then he went back to his post. 

The next morning, as he and Evelyn walked 
down the road through the apple-orchard toward 
the gateway, to open the rural-delivery mail-box, 
which stood just outside the gate, Jeff told Evelyn 
what he had found out. 

“Nothing more serious than a simple case of 
spoon,” he said, with an expression at which 
Evelyn might have laughed if she had not felt so 
disturbed. “The boy turned out to be our next 
neighbour here. They’ve made another appoint- 
ment for to-night. He thinks it a great lark — 
probably will brag about it to all the boys. He’s 
got to eat his little dish of humble pie, too. Evelyn, 
I’ve a plan. Will you trust me to carry it out to- 
night?” 

She looked at him. In her face was written a 
concern for Lucy so tender that Jeff adored her 
for it. At the same time he hastened to assure her 
that it was needless. 

“ If you merely talk with her I don’t think that 
will do it,” he said, decidedly. “She’s been with 
you all winter, has seen just how a girl should be- 
have,” — he did not know what a thrill of happiness 
this bluntly sincere compliment gave his hearer — 
“ and she hasn’t taken it in a bit. She needs some- 
thing to bring her to her senses. I’d rather not 


276 


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tell you my plan, for if you can assure her afterward 
that you weren’t in it, you can do her more good 
than if she’s as provoked at you as she’s sure to be 
at me. But I give you my word of honour I’ll not 
do a thing to frighten her, or play any fool practical 
jokes. I’ll have to let Just into the secret, I think, 
but nobody else. Will you trust me?” 

“ Of course, I will, ” said the girl, quickly. “ On 
just one condition, Jeff. Think of her as if she 
were your own sister, and don’t — don’t ” 

“Be ‘as funny as I can’ ? No, I won’t.” 

Evelyn observed Lucy all that day with under- 
standing, and found herself longing to warn the 
girl that her foolishness was about to meet with its 
punishment. She noted with sorrow the strangely 
excited look in the young eyes, the light, half- 
hysterical laugh, the changing colour in the pretty 
face. Lucy’s promise of beauty had never seemed 
to her so characterless, or her words so empty of 
sense. 

She found her in a corner of their room, reading 
a worn novel by a certain author whose very name 
she had been taught to regard as a synonym for 
vapidity and sentimentalism of the most highly 
flavoured sort, and she could not keep back a quick 
exclamation at sight of it. Lucy looked up with a 
frown and a flush. 

“I suppose you think it’s terrible to read 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


277 

novels,” she said, pettishly flirting the leaves. 
“Well, I don’t.” 

“Dear, it’s not ‘novels’ that I’ve been taught 
to despise, but the sort of novel that writer writes. 
I don’t know anything about them myself, but I 
saw my brother Thorne once put that one you’re 
reading in the stove and jam on the cover, as if he 
were afraid it would get out. Do you wonder I 
don’t like to see Lucy Peyton reading it?” asked 
Evelyn gently, with her cheek against theother girl’s. 

“He must be a terrible Miss Nancy, then,” said 
Lucy, defiantly. “There’s not a thing in it that 
couldn’t be in a Sunday-school book. The hero- 
ine is the sweetest thing.” 

“If she is she won’t mind your putting her down 
and coming out for a walk with me,” answered 
Evelyn, with a smile which might have captivated 
Lucy if she had seen it. But the younger girl got 
up and flung away out of the room, murmuring 
that she did not feel like walking, and would take 
herself and her book where they would not bother 
people. 

Evelyn looked after her with a little sigh, and 
owned that Jeff might be right in thinking that 
mere gentle argument with Lucy would have scant 
effect on a head full of nonsense or a heart whose 
love for the sweet and true had had far too little 
development. 


2jS 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


Half an hour before the time set for the rendez- 
vous at the summer-house that night Jeff and Just 
walked down the path, shoulder to shoulder, talk- 
ing under their breath. Just, being younger, was 
even more deeply interested than his brother in the 
prospective encounter, and received his final in- 
structions with ill-concealed glee. 

“All right !” he gurgled. “I’m to give him a 
good scare, in the shape of a lecture — with a 
thrashing promised if he cuts up any more. He’s 
to give his word, on pain of a lot of things, not to 
give any of this little performance of his away to a 
soul. Then he’s to be forbidden the premises 
while Miss Peyton is on them. I understand.” 

“Well, now, look here,” warned Jeff. “I give 
you leave, but, mind you, I trust your discretion, 
too. You never can tell what these Willie-boys 
will do. Dignity’s your cue. Be stern as an 
avenging fate, but don’t get to cuffing him round 
and batting him with language just because you’re 
bigger. You ” 

“Look here,” expostulated Just, aggrieved, 
“you picked me out for this job; now leave it to 
me. I’ll have the boy saying ‘sir’ to me before I 
get through.” 

Just ran down to the boat-house, got out a slim 
craft, launched it, and was about rowing away 
when he bethought himself of something, He 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


279 


pulled in to the landing, made fast his painter, and 
ran like a deer up to the house. He was back in 
five minutes. 

“ Don’t believe IT1 go by boat, after all,” he 
whispered to Jeff, standing in the summer-house 
door. “ It might be simpler not to have a boat to 
bother with. IT1 just leave the Butterfly tied there, 
and put her up when I get back.” 

He was off before Jeff could reply. Jeff started 
toward the boat to put it up, but stopped, con- 
sidering. 

Lucy would think it that of her admirer, and 
would be all the more sure to keep her appoint- 
ment. He left it as it was, swinging lightly on the 
water, six feet out. It was a habit of Just’s to 
moor a boat at the length of her painter, to pre- 
vent her bumping against the rough old landing. 

Lucy, coming swiftly down the path fifteen min- 
utes later, saw the boat and hastened her steps. 
She did not observe that this was a slimmer, longer 
craft than the boat George Jarvis was using. She 
reached the landing and looked about. Of course < 
he was in the summer-house. She went to it, her 
skirts, which she had of late been surreptitiously 
lengthening, held daintily in her hand. 

As she came close, a figure appeared in the door- 
way. Before she could be frightened by the real- 
isation that it was not Jarvis’s slender young 


28 o 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


frame which confronted her, Jeff accosted her in 
the mildest tones imaginable: 

“It’s only Jefferson Birch. Don’t be scared. 
Fine night, isn’t it ?” 

“Y-yes,” stammered Lucy, in dismay. She 
stood still, her skirts gathered close, as if she were 
about to run. 

“ Don’t go. Out for a stroll? So am I,” said 
Jeff, pleasantly, as if midnight promenades were 
the accustomed thing at “The Banks.” “Won’t 
you sit down ?” 

There were seats outside the summer-house as 
well as within, and he motioned toward one of them. 

“No, thank you. I think I’ll go back,” said 
Lucy, and her voice trembled. 

“Why, you’ve only just come! Why not stay a 
while and have a visit with me ? You must have 
been intending to stay.” 

“Oh, no!” said Lucy, eagerly, and stopped 
short, listening. What if George Jarvis should 
come round the corner at any moment ? She must 
get Jeff away with her. “Won’t you walk along 
up to the house with me ? I only came down to see 
if I’d left something in the summer-house.” 

Jeff had planned what he would say to her, but at 
this his disgust got the better of him. “ Lucy, ” said 
he — and his voice had changed from lightness to gra- 
vity — “ don’t you mind a bit saying what isn't true?" 


CHAPTER IX 


TXTHAT do you mean, Jefferson Birch, by say- 
ing such a thing ?” Lucy’s tone was one 
of mingled anger and fright. 

“I mean,” said Jeff, coolly, “that if coming 
down here to meet George Jarvis were what you 
were proud of doing, you wouldn’t try to cover it 
up. Do you know, Lu, I’m tremendously sorry 
you find any fun in a thing like that.” 

“Dear me,” — Lucy tried hard to assume her 
usual self-confident manner — “Who appointed 
you guardian of young ladies ?” 

“The trouble is — well — you’re not a young 
lady yet. You’re only a girl. If you were a real 
grown-up young lady there’d be nothing I could 
do about your stealing out at this late hour to meet 
a young man except to laugh and think my own 
thoughts. But since you’re only a girl ” 

“You can insult me!” Lucy was very near tears 
now — angry, mortified tears. 

“I don’t mean to insult you, and I think you 
know that. If anybody has insulted you it’s the 
boy who asked you to meet him here. He must 
have been the one to propose it, of course, and you 


281 


282 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


thought it would be fun. Lu, when I found this 
out I should have gone straight to my sister Char- 
lotte and told her to come and meet you here in- 
stead of myself, if I hadn’t known how it would dis- 
appoint her. She would have taken it to heart 
much more seriously than you can realise. She’s 
entertained you all winter and spring, and the 
responsibilities of looking after you and Ran have 
been heavy on her shoulders. She’s tried hard to 
give you a good time, too.” 

Lucy turned and walked deliberately away down 
the path toward the boat-landing. 

“I’m bungling it,” thought Jeff, uncomfortably, 
and stood still, waiting. “Perhaps I ought to 
have let Evelyn tackle the business, after all.” 

Lucy walked out upon the landing, where the 
Butterfly swung lazily in the wash of the current. 
Suddenly, quite without warning, she ran the 
length of the little pier and leaped for the boat. It 
had looked an easy distance, but as she made the 
jump she realised too late that the interval of 
water between pier and boat was wider than it had 
looked in the moonlight. With a scream and a 
splash she went down, and an instant later Jeff, 
dashing down the pier, saw only a widening circle 
gleaming faintly on the water. 

He flung off his coat, tore off his low shoes, and 
waited. The river-bottom shelved suddenly just 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


283 

where the pier ended, and the depth was fully 
twenty feet. Moment after moment went by 
while he watched breathlessly for the appearance 
of the girl at the surface. The current was strong 
a few feet out, and his gaze swept the water for 
some distance. When he caught sight of the break 
in the surface which told him what he wanted, it 
was even farther down-stream than he had cal- 
culated. 

“I mustn't risk this alone," he thought, quickly, 
and gave several ringing shouts for Just, whom he 
knew to be only two or three hundred yards up- 
shore. Then he made his plunge, swimming 
furiously to get below the place where the girl's 
white-clad form had risen, that he might be at hand 
when his chance came again. 

The current helped him, and so did the moon- 
light on the water. It was in the very centre of a 
glinting spot of light that Lucy came to the surface 
the second time. Before she had sunk out of sight 
Jeff had her by the skirts, and was working des- 
perately to get her head above water. She was 
struggling with all her fierce young strength, crazed 
with fright and suffocation, and she continually 
dragged him under in her blind attempts to pull 
herself up by him. 

When he could get breath he shouted again, and 
after what seemed to him an age, there came a 


284 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


response from two directions. Just running along 
the river bank, and Doctor Churchill, plunging 
down the hill, saw, and were coming to the rescue. 

“Hold on! Hold on! Em coming !” both shouted 
as they ran 

Doctor Churchill, having the easier course, 
reached the bank first. Being clad only in his 
pajamas, he was unburdened by superfluous 
clothing. With a long leap he was in the water, 
and with a half-dozen vigorous strokes he had 
reached Jeff’s elbow. 

“Let go! Eve got her!” he cried, and Jeff, 
spluttering and breathing hard, attempted to 
let go. 

But Lucy still fought so desperately that it was no 
easy matter to get her clutch away from Jeff’s 
clothing. By this time, however, Just was also in 
the water, and the three soon had the girl under 
control. 

“Keep quiet! You’re all right! Let us take you 
in!” called Doctor Churchill to the struggling, 
strangling little figure. So in a minute more they 
had her on the bank. 

“Why, it’s Lucy!” Doctor Churchill cried in 
astonishment, as he dropped upon his knees beside 
her and fell to work. 

“Yes, it’s Lucy!” panted Jeff. 

But there was no chance just then for explana- 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 285 

tions. For the next ten minutes he and Just were 
kept busy obeying peremptory orders. As under 
Andy’s directions they silently and anxiously 
worked over the young form upon the grass, they 
were feeling intensely grateful that the necessary 
skill had been so close at hand. But until the 
doctor’s satisfied “She’s coming out all right!” 
gave them leave, neither dared draw a good breath 
for himself. 

Just was wondering what he and Jeff were to 
say, but his brother was heaping reproaches upon 
himself, and sternly holding Jeff Birch responsible 
for the whole unfortunate affair. 

By the time Lucy was herself again and able 
to breathe without distress, Evelyn had come flying 
down the path — the only other person roused by 
the distant shouts. It had been a day full of active 
sports, and everybody was sleeping the sleep of the 
weary. Even Charlotte had not been roused by 
Andy’s departure. 

Just ran to the house for blankets; Evelyn, at 
Doctor Churchill’s direction, followed him to 
prepare a steaming hot drink for Lucy; and 
presently they had her in her bed, warm and dry, 
although much exhausted by her experience in the 
waters of the river, which were cold even on a June 
night. Doctor Churchill had insisted on calling 
Charlotte, but Evelyn had begged him to arouse 


286 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


nobody else, and after one look into her face he had 
agreed. 

At last, Lucy having dropped off to sleep under 
the soothing influence of the hot beverage, the 
others gathered quietly in a lower room. The 
three wet ones had acquired dry if informal gar- 
ments, and a council had been asked for by Evelyn. 

“It’s entirely my fault/’ began Jeff, promptly, 
and he plunged into a brief but graphic account of 
the accident. 

“It’s not in the least your fault,” Evelyn inter- 
rupted, at last, as Jeff came to a pause with a 
repetition of his self-condemnation. “It’s mine, 
if anybody’s. I should have taken the whole thing 
to Mrs. Churchill at once, instead of trying to 
keep it quiet.” 

“ My meeting her down there alone was entirely 
my plan,” began Jeff again; but this time it was 
his sister Charlotte who interrupted. 

“Neither of you is in the least to blame, my 
dears,” she said, smiling on them both. “Youhad 
the best of motives, and the plan might have worked 
out well but for the child’s sudden mad idea of 
jumping into that boat. I suppose she meant to 
row away.” 

“She didn’t stop to cast off — she couldn’t have 
got away before I should have been in the boat, 
too,” objected Jeff. 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


287 


“That simply shows how out of her head with 
excitement she was. But that's all over. She 
mercifully wasn't drowned" — a little involuntary 
shiver passed over the speaker — “and we'll hope 
for no serious consequences. The thing now is to 

think how to act when she wakes in the morn- 

• _ >> 
ing. 

“ I should say treat the whole thing for what it 
is, a childish escapade. Show her the silliness of it, 
and then let it drop," said Doctor Churchill. 

Charlotte looked at him appealingly. 

“Lucy and Ran go home next week," she said, 
slowly. “I hoped — I wanted so much to send 
Lucy away with — I can’t express it — a little bit 
higher ideals than any she has known before. I 
thought we were succeeding; she has seemed more 
considerate and less fault-finding." 

“She certainly has," Evelyn agreed quickly, 
and the two looked at each other. There was an 
instant's silence; then Just spoke: 

“How do you know but you'll find her quite a 
different proposition when she wakes up ? A 
plunge like that is a sobering sort of experience, I 
should say, for a girl who can't swim. She may be 
the meekest thing on earth after this. If it does 
her as much good as a lively dressing down did 
George Jarvis, she's likely to be a changed girl." 

They could not help smiling at the satisfaction 


288 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


in the boy’s voice. “He may be right/’ admitted 
Doctor Churchill. 

“At any rate, if Lucy isn’t ill to-morrow let’s tell 
nobody what has happened. The poor child 
certainly doesn’t need any more humiliation just 
at present, and I’d like to spare her all I can.” 
Charlotte spoke decidedly. 

They agreed to this. Evelyn went to her place 
beside Lucy, planning an affectionate greeting 
when the younger girl should wake; and Charlotte, 
when she fell asleep, dreamed of Lucy until 
morning. 

It was quite a different Lucy who met them all 
in the morning. She showed no ill effects except 
a slight languor, and when Charlotte had estab- 
lished her in a hammock on the porch, she lay 
there with a quiet, sober face, which showed that 
she had been doing some thinking. 

When Jeff approached with his most deferen- 
tial manner to inquire after her welfare, she as- 
tonished him by saying more simply and sweetly 
than he had dreamed possible: 

“I want to tell you I won’t forget what you did 
for me last night. I was foolish, I suppose. 
I — I didn’t think what I was doing was any 
harm, but I ” 

She choked a little and felt for her handkerchief. 
Jeff grasped her hand. He had a warm heart, and 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


289 


he had not got over the thought of how he should 
have felt if he had not been able to rescue the girl 
he had attempted to lecture. His answer to Lucy 
was very gentle: 

“We’ll never think of it again. I’m awfully 
thankful it all ended well. If you’ll forgive me for 
frightening you, I’ll say that I’m sure you’re really 
a sensible little girl, and I shan’t lie awake nights 
worrying over your taking midnight strolls.” 

His tone was not priggish, and his smile was so 
bright that Lucy took heart of grace, and said, 
earnestly, “You needn’t. I don’t want any 
more,” and buried her face in her pillow. 

But it was not to cry, for Evelyn came by. Jeff 
called to her, and between them they soon had 
Lucy smiling. Before the day was over she had 
had a little talk with Charlotte, in which the young 
married woman came nearer to the heart of the girl 
that she had ever succeeded in doing before, and 
Lucy had learned one or two simple lessons she 
never forgot. 

“But it’s the first and last time I ever attempt 
the education of the young girl,” declared Jeff, 
solemnly, to Evelyn, that afternoon, as they 
gathered armfuls of old-fashioned June roses for 
the decoration of the porch. 

“Don’t feel too badly. Lucy is going to value 
your respect very much after this, and I think 


290 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


you’ll be able to give it to her. A girl who has no 
older brother misses a great deal, I think. I don’t 
know what I should have done without mine,” 
answered Evelyn, reaching up to pull at a pink 
cluster far above her head. 

“Let me get that for you,” and Jeff’s long arm 
easily grasped the spray and drew it down to her. 
“Well, I owe a lot to my sisters, that’s sure.” 

With quite a knightly air he cut the fairest bud 
at hand, and gave it to her, saying quietly, “You 
wouldn’t like it if I said anything soft and senti- 
mental, but you won’t mind if I tell you that you 
seem to me a lot like that bud there — that’s going 
to blossom some day.” 

He knew it pleased her, for the ready colour told 
him so. But she answered lightly: 

“As yet I’m quite content to be only a bud. 
Your sister Celia is the opening rose. Isn’t she 
lovely? Here’s one just like her. Take it to her 
and tell her I said so, will you ?” 

She plucked the rose and motioned to where 
Celia was coming alone along the orchard road, 
Frederic Forester having just left her for a hasty 
trip to town. Jeff laughed, took the rose and the 
message, and brought back Celia’s thanks. Eve- 
lyn met him with her full basket, and the rose- 
picking was over. 

“She says to tell you you’re a flatterer, but being 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


291 

a woman, she likes it — and you,” said Jeff, taking 
her basket away. 

Doctor Forester’s party had lasted eight days 
now, and his guests were planning how to make 
the most of the time remaining, when Doctor 
Churchill came spinning out in the middle of a 
Thursday morning with a letter. Mrs. Peyton had 
sent word that Randolph and Lucy were to meet 
her in a distant city, thirty-six hours’ ride away. 
From there the trio were to proceed to their home. 

“They will have to leave this evening in order 
to make it,” Doctor Churchill announced. “This 
letter has barely allowed time — a little character- 
istic of Cousin Lula which I remember of old. 
She has an idea that time and tide — if they wait for 
no man — can sometimes be prevailed upon to 
change their schedule on account of a woman.” 

Upon hearing the news Lucy burst into tears. 
She did not want to go, she did not want to go so 
soon — more than all, she was afraid to go alone. 

“Undoubtedly some one can be found who is 
going the same way,” the letter read, easily, “and 
in any case, you can put them in charge of the 
railroad officials, who will see that they make no 
mistakes. I cannot possibly afford to come so far 
for them.” 

“Why can’t Evelyn go now, too?” pleaded 
Lucy, as she and Evelyn, Charlotte and Celia 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


292 

were being conveyed on a rapid run home by 
Frederic Forester. It had been decided necessary 
for all feminine hands to fall to work, to accom- 
plish the packing in time to get the young people 
off at nine that evening. 

“ Evelyn doesn’t go until next Tuesday, and this 
is only Thursday,” Charlotte answered, promptly. 

“Five days isn’t much difference,” urged Lucy 
mournfully. “And when Evelyn’s going right 
over the same road almost to our home, I should 
think she’d like to go when we do, if it did cut off 
a little. She’s been here all winter.” 

“So have you, Lu, and you don’t want to go,” 
Charlotte reminded her. 

She did not say that nobody could bear to think 
of Evelyn’s departure any sooner than was abso- 
lutely necessary, for it was not possible honestly 
to say the same about Lucy. But when they 
reached the house, and Charlotte had run up to her 
room to exchange her dress for a working frock, 
Evelyn came to her and softly closed the door. 
Evelyn had persuaded herself that she ought to 
accompany the others. 

“It isn’t as if Lucy were a different sort of girl,” 
she argued — against her own wishes, for she longed 
to stay more than she dared to own. “But no- 
body knows how she might behave — if anybody 
tried to get to know her — somebody she oughtn’t 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


293 


to know. And besides, she’s afraid. It really 
doesn’t matter. I can use the extra time getting 
things ready for Thorne. Please don’t urge me, 
Mrs. Churchill. It won’t be a bit easier next 
week.” 

Gentle as she was, Charlotte had learned that 
• when Evelyn made up her mind that she ought 
to do a thing, it was as good as done. So pres- 
ently Evelyn, too, was packing, her smiles at the 
remonstrances of Charlotte and Celia very sweet, 
her heart very heavy. 

“Well, dear, I’ve telephoned the others at ‘The 
Banks,’ ” said Charlotte, coming into Evelyn’s 
room, having just left Lucy in an ecstatic condition 
over the decision. “You should have heard the 
dismay. Jeff and Just have already started home 
on their wheels, to prevent your going by main 
force.” 

This was literally true. From Doctor Forester 
down to his youngest guest had come regret and 
remonstrance. Finally, however, Doctor Forester, 
having called up Evelyn herself, and been per- 
suaded that she was sure she was right, had 
fallen to planning what could be done to make 
the girl’s leave-taking a pleasant one for her to 
remember. 

After a little an idea seized him. He chuckled 
to himself, and fell to telephoning again. He had 


294 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


Doctor Churchill on the wire, then Charlotte, Celia 
and his son Frederic, who had remained at the 
Birches’, finally the railway-station, the Pullman 
office, and a certain official of whom he was 
accustomed to ask favours and get them 
granted. 

“ Good-by, Mrs. Fields!” said Evelyn Lee, 
coming out upon the back porch, where the 
doctor’s housekeeper was resting after a busy days’ 
work. “I shall never forget how good you’ve 
been to me, and I hope you won’t forget me.” 

“Forget you ! ” ejaculated Mrs. Fields, her spare, 
strong hand grasping tight the slender one held out 
to her. “Well, there ain’t much danger of that, 
nor of anybody else’s forgetting you. I’ve been 
about as pleased as the doctor and Miss Charlotte 
to see you pick up. You don’t look like the same 
girl that came here last fall.” 

“I’m sure I don’t feel much like her. Ever so 
much of it is certainly due to your good cooking, 
Mrs. Fields.” 

“It’s so hard to take leave of you all,” said 
Evelyn, on the porch, where the others were as- 
sembled. “I’d almost like to slip away without 
a word — only that would look so ungrateful. And 
I’m the most grateful girl alive.” 

“You needn’t say good-by to me,” said Doctor 
Forester, “for I’m going as far as Washington with 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 295 

you.” He smiled at the joy which flashed into 
her face. 

“Oh, are you really?” she cried. 

“You needn't say good-by to me, either,” said 
Frederic Forester, as she turned to him, standing 
next to his father, “for I'm going, too,” 

“I think I'll go along,” said Doctor Churchill. 

“Will you take me ?” Charlotte was smiling at 
Evelyn’s bewildered face. 

“If Charlotte goes, I shall, too,” supplemented 
Celia. 

Evelyn looked at them. Surely enough, al- 
though in the hurry she had not noticed it before, 
they were all in travelling dress. She had known 
they had meant to go as far as the city station with 
her; she saw now that they were fully equipped 
for the journey. And Washington was nearly 
twenty hours away! 

“You dear people!” murmured Evelyn, and 
rather blindly cast herself into Mrs. Birch’s out- 
stretched arms. 

There was only one thing lacking to her peace 
of mind. Jeff had not appeared to bid her good- 
by. Charlotte observed that Evelyn’s voice 
trembled a little when she said, “Where’s Jeff? 
Will you tell him good-by for me ?” 

Charlotte answered, “ He won’t fail, dear. He’ll 
surely be at the station.” 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


296 

But when they reached the station no Jeff was 
there. Nobody seemed to notice, for the men of 
the party were busy looking after various details 
of the trip. Celia was explaining to Evelyn and 
Lucy how it had all come about. 

“Doctor Forester was so upset and sorry over 
your going/’ she said, “that he went to thinking 
up excuses to go along. He remembered an im- 
portant medical convention in Washington, and 
persuaded Andy that he could get away for the 
three days’ session. Then he invited Charlotte 
and me, and convinced Mr. Frederic that he ought 
to go, too. We were only too willing, so here we are.” 

“ It’s the loveliest thing that could happen, ” said 
Evelyn, and tried hard not to let her eyes wander 
to the doors of the station. 

She had not seen Jeff since early in the afternoon, 
when, after hot argument, he had at last given up 
trying to persuade her that she need not go until 
the coming Tuesday. To Just only, however, as 
he carried her little travelling bag on board the 
train for her, did she say a word. 

“Please tell Jeff for me,” she said in his ear, as 
he established her in the designated section of the 
sleeping-car, “that I felt very badly not to say 
good-by to hfrn. But give him my best remem- 
brance, and say that I’m sure he must have been 
kept from coming by something he couldn’t help.” 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


297 


“Of course he must have been,” agreed Just, 
heartily, feeling like pitching into his delinquent 
brother with both fists for bringing that hurt little 
look into the hazel eyes below him. “He’ll prob- 
ably turn up just as your train gets under headway, 
and then he’ll be the maddest fellow you ever saw. 
Hullo, I’ll bet that messenger boy is looking for 
you!” as he saw Frederic Forester pointing a blue- 
capped carrier of a florist’s box toward Evelyn. 
He went forward, claimed the box, and brought it 
back to Evelyn. 

She peeped within, saw a great cluster of roses, 
and drew out a card. “Of course it’s Jeff’s?” 
queried Just, anxiously, and he felt immense 
relief when Evelyn nodded. 

“Well, I’m off!” Just gripped her hand as the 
train began to move. “Good-by! I’m mighty 
sorry to have you go,” and with lifted hat, and a 
hasty farewell to Lucy and Randolph, he was gone. 

Evelyn smiled at him from the window, as he 
ran down the platform waving at her, but her 
heart was still heavy. It was very good of Jeff to 
send the flowers, but she would rather have had one 
hearty grasp of his friendly hand than all the roses 
in his Northern state. 


CHAPTER X 



ELL, I consider myself pretty lucky to have 


secured four sections all together on this 
train,” said Doctor Forester, with satisfaction, as 
he and Andrew Churchill and Frederic retired to 
the smoking-room while their berths were being 
made up. 

“Why, what are we slowing down for out here ?” 
Frederic glanced out of the window. “This is 
West Weston, isn’t it ? Yes — we’re off again. 
Some official, probably.” 

A door slammed and a tall figure hurried through 
the passage, looked in at the smoking-room, and 
turned back. “Hullo!” said a familiar voice, and 
Jeff’s laughing face beamed in upon them. 

“Well, well, did you hold up the train?” they 


cried. 


“Thought you’d come along, too, did you?” 
asked Doctor Forester. “Good! Glad to have 
you. I thought it was odd you weren’t round to 
see us off. Go and surprise the girls. They’re 
just back there, waiting for their berths.” 

Jeff hurried eagerly away. A moment later 
Evelyn, standing in the aisle beside Charlotte, felt 


298 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


299 


a touch on her arm. She looked up, and met Jeff’s 
eyes smiling down at her. 

“Did you think I’d let you go like that?” he 
said in her ear. 

“I’m afraid I thought you had,” she admitted, 
grown happy in an instant. 

“You see, I had an appointment with a man in 
West Weston on some work Eve been doing for 
him. After I heard this plan of Doctor Forester’s 
I had only just time to catch a train and get out 
there. He kept me so long I missed the train that 
would have brought me back in time to see you off, 
so I telephoned Chester Agnew to get the flowers 
for me and write a card. That was when I was 
afraid I might not make connections at all. But 
when this man I went to see — he’s a railroad man — 
heard what train I’d wanted to make, he offered to 
stop it for me. Then it just came into my mind 
that I’d join the party, even without an invitation. 
Tell me you’re not sorry — won’t you?” 

“Of course I’m not.” She allowed him one of 
her frank looks, and he smiled back at her. 

“We’ll have a great day to-morrow,” he 
prophesied. “They’ll put on a Pullman with an 
observation rear in the morning, and if the weather 
holds we’ll camp out there for the day. We don’t 
get into Washington till three in the afternoon, 
and the scenery all the way down will be fine. I 


3 00 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


suppose I’ll have to go off now and let you be 
tucked up. Please get up bright and early in 
the morning, will you ? ” 

It was a merry party which entered the dining- 
car the next morning the moment the first summons 
came. The day had risen bright and clear as a 
June day could be, and everybody was in a hurry 
to get out on the observation platform. 

Doctor Forester, sitting opposite Charlotte and 
Andy at one table, glanced across at the rest of the 
party, on the opposite side of the car, and said in a 
low voice: 

“This is literally a case of speeding the parting 
guest, isn’t it ? Captain John Rayburn got you into 
something of a scrape when he sent you that copper 
inscription over your fireplace, didn’t he ? He 
didn’t realise that the ‘ornaments’ it brought you 
in November would have to be conveyed away by 
force in June. It was the only way to give you an 
interval when you should, for the first time in the 
history of your married life, have no guests at 
all.” 

Charlotte and Andrew were staring at him in 
amazement. 

“Uncle Ray?” cried Charlotte, under her 
breath. “Was he the one ? Did you know it all 
the time, Doctor Forester?” 

“Yes, I knew it all the time,” he owned. “In 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


3 01 


fact, Captain Rayburn wrote to me after he had 
heard of the fireplace. You sent him a photo- 
graph of it, didn’t you ?” 

“So we did,” Doctor Churchill answered. 
“We took it the day the fireplace was finished, 
I’d forgotten it completely, but I remember now. 
We thought he’d be interested, because something 
he once said about the ideal fireplace had put the 
idea into our heads of collecting the stones our- 
selves. So he wrote all the way from Denmark to 
have that made?” 

“He had it made there, and wrote me for the 
measurements. He expressed it to me, and I 
repacked it and sent it to you,” chuckled Doctor 
Forester. “He was determined to puzzle you 
completely. ” 

“He certainly succeeded. Did he give you 
leave to tell at this particular date ?” 

“It was left to my discretion after the first six 
months, provided you had had any guests. I 
thought the time was ripe, and you’d earned your 
diploma. All that worries me is that you may find 
a fresh instalment of ornaments when you get back. 
The motto strikes me as a sort of uncanny pro- 
vider of them.” The others laughed. Charlotte 
glanced across at Evelyn. 

“It has paid,” she said softly. Andy nodded. 
“It certainly has. All the thanks we shall need 


3°2 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


will be in Thorne Lee’s letter, after he has seen his 
little sister.” 

“I rather think it’s paid with the others, too,” 
Doctor Forester added. “Anyhow, you’ve cer- 
tainly done your part.” 

Out on the back of the train Charlotte found 
Lucy at her elbow. She looked into the girl’s face, 
and discovered the blue eyes to be full of tears. 
“Why, Lu, dear!” she said, softly. 

“Mrs. Churchill” — Lucy was almost crying — 
“I just can’t bear to think it’s the last day! I wish 
— oh, I wish — I lived with you!” 

“Do you, dear? That’s very pleasant,” and 
Charlotte drew her close, feeling more warmth 
toward Lucy than the girl had yet inspired. “ But 
don’t be blue.” 

“I can’t help it. It’s almost ten o’clock now, 
and at three we shall be going away from you 
all.” 

“No, you won’t,” Charlotte whispered in her 
ear. “It was to have been a surprise, but I think 
you’ll enjoy it more to know. Only don’t tell 
Evelyn. Doctor Forester has telegraphed your 
mother and received her answer. You’re not to 
go till to-morrow night at six, and we’re to have 
twenty-eight hours together in Washington.” 

“Oh! Oh!” Lucy almost screamed, so that the 
others looked around at her and smiled. “Oh, I 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


303 

do think Doctor Forester and you are just the 
nicest people I ever knew!” 

Doctor Forester’s secret was not very well kept, 
after all. Lucy whispered the good news to Jeff, 
and he could not forbear telling it to Evelyn just as 
the train was drawing out of Baltimore. His own 
spirits had been drooping as time went on, but the 
reprieve of a day sent them up with a bound. 

“The question is what we shall do with our 
time,” said Doctor Forester, looking round at his 
party in the hotel parlour, where he had taken 
them. “ Speak up, everybody. We can divide our 
forces if necessary. Is there anybody here who 
hasn’t been here before?” 

Lucy and Randolph seemed to be the only ones 
not more or less familiar with the capital. On 
hearing this, Doctor Forester declared that he 
should himself take them to as many of the most 
interesting places as possible. 

“Whatever we do to-night, I vote for the trip 
down the Potomac to Mount Vernon in the 
morning,” said Doctor Churchill, promptly. 
“We’ll get back in plenty of time for Evelyn’s 
train, and there certainly isn’t a better way to put 
in the time than that.” 

This was heartily agreed upon, and the re- 
mainder of the day was used in various ways, not 
more than two of which, it may be remarked, were 


3°4 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


alike. Charlotte smiled meaningly at her husband 
as she watched Celia and Fred Forester, having 
proceeded half-way across Lafayette Park with 
Jeff and Evelyn, leave the two at a cross-path, and 
walk briskly off by themselves. 

“That’s certainly a sure thing, isn’t it ?” said he. 

“No question of it, I think.” 

“Are you satisfied?” 

“Perfectly. I haven’t seen very much of Fred 
since he — and we — grew up, but if he’s his father’s 
son ” 

“He is, I think,” said Doctor Churchill, con- 
fidently. “And the doctor likes it, I’m sure. 
There’s satisfaction in his face whenever he looks 
at them. In fact, I can’t help thinking he planned 
both the house party and this trip with a view of 
bringing them together all he could.” 

“Dear Celia — if she’s just half as happy as she 
deserves to be ” 

“She will be. She loves to travd, hasn’t had 
half enough of it, and he’ll take her round the 
world. I haven’t had a chance to tell you that 
he’s going to India in the fall, in some important 
capacity. He received the appointment just 
yesterday.” 

“Really?” Charlotte looked thoughtful. 
“Celia — in India! Andy ” 

“Does that startle you ? I don’t imagine it’s for 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


3°5 


any long stay, but as a matter of some scientific 
investigations. Here, don’t go to looking sober. 
I shall be sorry I told you.” 

Charlotte smiled and answered brightly that 
it was not a thing to look sober over. Neverthe- 
less, her thoughts were much with her sister. The 
next morning, as the party found their places on 
the little steamer which was to take them down the 
river to Mount Vernon, she found herself watching 
Celia more closely than she had meant to do, in the 
anxiety to discover if the trip to India was really 
imminent. 

“Isn’t Mount Vernon a fascinating spot?” 
asked Evelyn, as she and Jeff walked up the long, 
ascending road from pier to house together. “ I’ve 
never forgotten my first visit. I lived in Washing- 
ton’s times in my dreams for weeks afterward. I 
never saw it at this season of the year. The garden 
must be in its prime now.” 

“Let’s go and see it first,” responded Jeff, 
quickly. “I don’t remember much about it. 
My two visits here have all been spent in the 
house.” 

So while the others rambled through the quaint 
and interesting rooms, Jeff and Evelyn made their 
way to the box-bordered paths of Lady Washing- 
ton’s garden, and wandered about there in the 
warm June sunshine. It grew so hot after a while 


3 ° 6 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


that they betook themselves to the lawn and banks 
overlooking the river, and sat there talking, as they 
watched the waters of the Potomac. 

“What are you going to do when you get 
home?” asked Jeff, somewhat suddenly. 

“Put our rooms in order,” Evelyn responded, 
promptly. 

“All by yourself?” 

“We live in the same house with a lovely little 
woman, the wife of a former Confederate general. 
I shall be with her until Thorne comes.” 

“I suppose you’ve lots of friends of your own 
age?” Jeff observed. 

“Not as many as I ought to have. You see, Fve 
lived very quietly with my brother for six years 
now, except for the time I spent at a girls’ school 
in Baltimore. Since I came home from there I’ve 
not been very strong, and Thorne has kept me very 
quiet, until he sent me North to school last fall.” 

“You’re so well now you’ll be going about a 
lot. Any young people in the house with you ? 
It’s a boarding-house, isn’t it ?” 

“Yes, a small one. There are no young people 
in it except Mrs. Livingstone’s son.” 

“How old a fellow?” 

“Twenty-one, I believe.” 

“I suppose you’re great friends with him?” 
said Jeff suspiciously. 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


307 


Evelyn looked at him quickly and laughed, 
flushing a little. “Why, we’ r e naturally very 
good friends,” she said. 

“Evelyn,” said Jeff, sitting up straight again, 
“I’m absolutely bursting to tell you some news, 
and I can’t seem to lead up to it. I’ve got to bring 
it out flat. The only thing I’m anxious about is 
whether it’s going to be as good news to you as it is 
to me.” 

She looked at him with a quickening of her 
pulses, his expression had become so very eager. 
“Please don’t keep me in suspense,” she begged. 

“Well” — Jeff did his best to speak coolly, as if 
the matter were really of no great importance, 
after all — “you know it’s been a question with me 
all along as to just what I was going to do when I 
got out of college. I wanted tremendously to get 
to work, and a lot of the usual things didn’t seem 
to appeal to me at all. I haven’t enough of a 
scientific turn to go into any of the engineering 
courses. I didn’t care for a mercantile berth. 
In fact, while my brother Lanse has had his future 
cut out for him since he was fourteen, and Just, at 
sixteen, is body and soul in for electrical engineer- 
ing, I’ve been the family problem. Father’s had 
the sense not to assert his wishes for a moment. 
He saw from the start, I suppose, that the family 
traditions were not for me — I could never begin 


3°8 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


by studying law and end by wearing the ermine, 
as a lot of my grandfathers and uncles have 
done. So ” 

Jeff paused and drew a long breath. He had 
been looking off down the river as he talked, but 
now he brought his eyes back to Evelyn’s face, and 
his spirits leaped exultantly as he saw with what 
eager attention she was listening. 

“You really care to hear all this, don’t you?” 
he asked, happily, and went on before she could do 
more than nod. “Well, the short of it is that 
through Doctor Forester I got to know a friend of 
his who is a railroad magnate — the real thing — 
and to please the doctor he seemed to take an in- 
terest in me. He’s offered me a position in one of 
his offices, provided I take a year to study practical 
railroading first. Of course I’m only too glad to do 
that. And now I’m coming to the point of the 
whole thing. When my year is up, that office 
where I’m to begin to work up in the railroad 
business is” — he paused dramatically, watching 
his hearer’s face, as his own, in spite of himself, 
broke into a smile — “in your own city, Evelyn 
Lee!” 

If he had had any lingering doubt that this 
might not be as good news to Evelyn as he wanted 
it to be, his fears were put to rout. 

“O Jeff!” she said, quite breathlessly, and the 











































































i 





THE SECOND VIOLIN 


309 

happy colour surged into her face. “Why, that’s 
almost too good to be true!” 

“Is it ? You’re a trump for saying so. Jupiter! 
I feel like standing up and shouting. The thing 
has been sure since that afternoon I went to 
Weston, but I didn’t mean to tell you of it in this 
crazy boy fashion, but write it to you quite calmly 
after you got home. But — it wouldn’t keep. ” 

“I shouldn’t think it would. Besides, it’s so 
much nicer to hear it now, when it makes it ” 

She stopped abruptly, and jumped up. Jeff 
leaped to his feet also. 

“ Makes it — what?” he asked, eagerly. 

“Why — it’s such a pleasant place to hear good 
news in.” 

“That wasn’t what you were going to say.” 

“We ought to go back to the house.” She 
began to move slowly away. Jeff followed. 

“I’d like to hear the end of that sentence,” he 
urged, as they walked up the grassy slope to the 
house in the clear sunlight. 

She laughed a little, but shook her head. She 
was looking very sweet in her brown travelling 
dress, her russet hair shaded by a wide brown hat 
with captivating curving outlines. Jeff looked at 
her dainty profile and realised that the hour for 
separation was coming fast. 

“Anyhow, I know what I wish you were going 


3 10 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


to say,” — he was striding close by her side — “and 
I can certainly say it if you can’t. Telling you 
that I’m coming to work near you next year makes 
it easier for me to say good-by now. And that’s — 
well — that’s going to be a bit tough.” 

Evelyn walked on a few steps in silence. Then 
she turned and spoke softly over her shoulder. 
There was not a touch of coquetry in her simple 
manner, yet it had an engaging quality all its own. 

“That’s what I wanted to say, Jeff.” 

“Thank you,” he responded. “I’ll not forget 
that,” and his tone told that he appreciated the 
little concession. 

It seemed but the briefest possible space of time 
before they Kad gone over the house, had been 
hurried back to the landing by emphatic toots from 
the small excursion steamer, and were off for the 
city again. The trip back up the river was finished 
also before it seemed hardly begun. All too soon 
for anybody the three young travellers were on 
their train, and Doctor Churchill and Fred For- 
ester had taken leave of them and were out on the 
platform, ready to jump off. Jeff had lingered till 
the last. 

“Good-by, Lucy! Good-by, Ran!” he said, and 
gave each a hearty grip and smile. Then his hand 
clasped Evelyn’s, his eyes said things his lips 
would not have ventured to speak, and his hand 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


3 11 

wrung hers with a fervour which made it sting. 
Then he went away without a backward look, as 
if he must get the parting quickly over. 

Outside the train, however, he turned with the 
others, and as the train rolled slowly out of the 
station, and Evelyn strained her eyes to see the 
group of her friends waving affectionately to her 
from the platform, the last face upon which her 
gaze rested wore the strong, loyal, eloquent look 
of Jefferson Birch. 


“Home again,” said Andrew Churchill, as he 
set his latch-key in the door of the brick house four 
days later. “Fieldsy must be away, or she 
would have answered.” 

They hurried through the house. It was in 
absolute order, but empty. On the office desk was 
a note in the housekeeper’s awkward hand : 

“ If you should come to-night, I’ve had to go to 
take care of a sick woman, will be back in the 
morning, you will find everything cooked up.” 

Doctor Churchill read it with a laugh. 
“Charlotte, we’re actually alone in our own house. 
Let’s run over to the other house and embrace 
them all round, and then come back and see how 
it feels over here.” 

So they went across the lawn. 


3!2 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


“We shall be delighted to have you stay with us, 
my dears,” said Mrs. Birch, after the greetings. 

“Mother Birch,” said her son-in-law, with an 
affectionate hand on her shoulder, “not even you 
can charm us out of our own house to-night. Do 
you know that we’re all alone — that not even 
Fieldsy is over there ? Charlotte’s going to get 
dinner, and I’m to help her with the clearing up, 
and then we’re going to sit on our porch. Of 
course we shall be constantly looking down the 
street for a messenger boy with a telegram announc- 
ing the coming of our next guest, but until he 
comes ” 

Everybody laughed at the expressive breath he 
drew. 

“Go, you dear children,” said Mrs. Birch, and 
the rest joined in warmly. 

“I’ll sit on our doorstone with a rifle, and pick 
off the visitors as they come up the street!” cried 
Just, as the two went off. 

“Don’t shoot to kill!” Doctor Churchill called 
back, gaily. Then the door closed on the pair. 

When the happy little dinner was over, the 
dishes put away, and Charlotte had slipped on a 
cool frock in which to spend the warm summer 
evening, she went out to find her husband lying 
comfortably in the hammock behind the vines, his 
hands clasped under his head. The twilight was 


THE SECOND VIOLIN 


3 l 3 

just slipping into evening, and the breath of unseen 
roses was sweet upon the shadows. 

Charlotte drew a chair close to her husband’s 
side and sat down. 

“ After all, Andy,” said she, as they fell to talk- 
ing of the past year, “ I wouldn’t have had it differ- 
ent. One thing is certain — out of our three guests 
we entertained at least one angel unawares.” 

“Yes, and I like to think that perhaps the others 
are none the worse for staying with us,” Andrew 
Churchill answered, thoughtfully. “I’m glad we 
did it, glad it’s over, and shall be glad to have other 
people come to see us — by and by. But — I want 
a good long honeymoon first. Is that your mind ? ” 

“Yes,” she answered fervently, smiling. 




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